


Losers In College - August

by bcnvcrly, confunded, filthstar, hanscomarsh, hiyo_silver_away, mikehanlonstan, shanisafan



Series: Losers In College RP [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College AU, F/M, Gen, M/M, Memory Loss, Reddie, Roleplay, Roleplay Logs, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, benverly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-06-26 03:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 81,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15655035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcnvcrly/pseuds/bcnvcrly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded/pseuds/confunded, https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthstar/pseuds/filthstar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanscomarsh/pseuds/hanscomarsh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyo_silver_away/pseuds/hiyo_silver_away, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikehanlonstan/pseuds/mikehanlonstan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanisafan/pseuds/shanisafan
Summary: After gradually moving away during high school and spending a couple of years at different universities, the Losers, for one reason or another, all end up back in Maine (along with Patty Blum). They have all basically forgotten each other over time, so they must meet again on campus and reestablish their connection. Shenanigans ensue.





	1. Moving In, Part 1: Eddie & Stan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite having little to no memory of ever being friends or even knowing one another, the Losers all happen to end up as roommates after transferring to UMaine. On move-in day, Eddie and Stan get off to kind of a rough start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Friday, 08/24, late morning; York Hall, Room 204**

When Eddie enters his dorm room he's grateful to see that he's the first to arrive. He hadn't been in a dorm since his chaotic, embarrassing freshman year experience in New York, and he definitely needs a moment to decompress, which would be impossible to get if he had to deal with a ridiculous roommate right away. Unfortunately, as a transfer student, he was unable to get an early claim on one of the upperclassmen suits or on-campus apartments... so here he is, stuck in a regular, two-person room, on a floor with a community bathroom and probably a lot of jerks. His own personal hell.

But there isn't anything he can do about that _now_ , so he moves his bags and boxes onto the flimsy twin bed and starts opening everything up. His grandparents were nice enough to drive him here from Portland, but they couldn't stay around for long. So he's unpacking alone, but he really prefers it that way. It's cathartic, in a way, packing and unpacking; it allows him to pretend at least for a moment that he's always on the go, never staying in one place for very long. The reality is quite the opposite - this is only his second time being away from his mother, and he's determined to prove, if only to himself, that he's capable of not fucking it up this time.

As the minutes tick by, Eddie's side of the room (the left, closer to the door to create the illusion of an easy escape route) is starting to come together. He's set up his small collection of books on the shelf above his desk and hung up some of his clothes, and now he's sitting cross-legged on his mattress, carefully taking out the rest of his clothing and sorting everything into piles to put away.

.

Even though Stanley had woken up early, he still has to go look through his already packed stuff to make sure he has everything. He knows he's going to arrive later, but the uncertainty is bothering him too much not to check. It eventually makes him fall a bit behind schedule, but finally, he gets into his father's old car, anxious and uncertain if sharing a room with another person is a good idea. It's going to introduce chaos into his own schedule.

When he finally arrives in the room with his bags, the first thing he notices is that his new roommate is already unpacking his things. He scans his part of the room, so far not getting a bad impression. Then his eyes fall on the roommate himself and Stanley gives him a small smile, remembering his manners.

"Uh, hello," he starts, his voice a little gruff from not talking much on the ride here. "I'm Stanley Uris."

.

Eddie looks up, too absorbed in his unpacking to notice Stan hovering in the doorway right away. He smiles awkwardly and scrambles to stand up. "Hi! I'm Eddie. Um..." He walks over, sticking his hand out to shake Stan's. He thinks the name seems a little familiar - but maybe he'd just read it on one of the letters the college sent after he transferred his credits over. He shrugs the feeling off, for now.

The first thing he notices about Stan is that he seems very well put together, which immediately makes Eddie ashamed of the piles of clothing covering his bed. “Sorry, the room is kind of a mess... I wanted to finish unpacking before you got here, but that obviously didn't happen."

.

Stan shakes his hand quickly then takes a step back to get his bags inside. "As long as you keep the mess on your side, I might manage," he replies in a light tone with no menace behind it.

He moves his bags toward his side of the room, already feeling a bit awkward about sharing a room with someone. Stan then starts unpacking his stuff, making sure his clothes are neatly hung in the wardrobe.

.

Eddie frowns and watches Stan move his stuff, totally missing the lightness in his tone. Did he really get the most uptight roommate ever? _Fucking great._ "Okay well, there's no real _mess_ , I'm literally just unpacking my clothes. I've only been here for like thirty minutes."

.

Well, Stan sure _hopes_ there isn't.

"I mean, too much mess is just distracting," he explains, brushing away the curls from his forehead. It's better to establish that at the beginning. If he has to learn how to share a room with another person, they need to start off on the right terms.

.

"Yeah... okay." Eddie shakes his head a little and goes back to unpacking, inconspicuously rolling his eyes once he's facing away from Stan. If he's going to get criticized _for the way he's unpacking_ , this is going to be a rough year. And the worst part is that he's NOT messy! At least, he doesn't consider himself messy. This guy doesn't even _know_ him, and it's infuriating that he's being judged like this. So, after a couple of minutes of uncomfortable silence, Eddie can no longer contain himself. "You know, maybe we ought to, oh I don't know, get to know each other a little? Before like... making assumptions and getting off to a bad start."

.

Stan looks over at Eddie, putting his a bit worn out bird book on the little desk by his bed. He subconsciously traces the cover with his fingertips, as if the feeling of rough leather makes him more familiar in a completely new place.

"I'm just pointing out I don't like mess." He shrugs, wondering if that's sarcasm in the other boy's voice. Well, if he's getting angry for being called messy then that's a good thing. "Sorry if that came out wrong."

He gives Eddie a small smile that instantly makes his whole stern look more warm and approachable.

.

Eddie blinks, a little taken aback by Stan's sudden shift in demeanor - he'd been essentially prepared to start arguing, but now that doesn't feel necessary. He bites his lip, feeling sheepish now for getting defensive.

"It's - it's fine, I get it. I don't like mess either, really, I promise. Um." He stands, bringing one of the piles of clothes with him, and starts putting the items away in the wooden dresser that's built into the wall on his side of the room. "So... what do you like, Stan?"

He shoots him an unsure smile, hoping to lighten the mood and maybe find more common ground.

.

The moment anyone asks this question, Stan suddenly doesn't remember what he likes. Who is he?? _What are we in this universe??_

He shifts his weight on his legs, propping himself against the little desk. "Uh, birds? If there was an option, I'd take ornithology as a minor right away," he replies eventually, his voice low and quiet. "What else? A good book or a movie." He shrugs, unsure what to add.

.

"Birds," Eddie repeats flatly. That might be the most boring niche interest he's ever heard of. "Don't they carry tons of diseases? And they shit on _everything._ "

.

Stan rolls his eyes, feeling slightly annoyed. There it is, Eddie activated his bird card and there is no coming back from this. He's gonna get his little bird lecture.

"Birds are actually pretty clean. Besides, they're the kind of species to observe and admire, not keep in cages. There's a wide range of those animals, all of them unique and different, so it's not only about diseases and shitting everywhere. For example, a crow is a highly intelligent bird. There's also a bird called Tinamou, they're one of the most easily stressed birds and can accidentally kill themselves. I think a lot of students can relate."

.

"Haha, what?" Eddie asks, stopping what he's doing to look at Stan. "That's depressing. What kind of idiot bird dies from _stress?_ "

.

Stan furrows his eyebrows, giving Eddie a judgmental stare. A slight confusion settles in his eyes too, because it feels a bit like they already had this kind of conversation. But... that couldn't be.

"They just run into a tree, too anxious to act properly. Doesn't that happen to you? When you get overwhelmed?" Stan isn't sure why he added the last two questions, they just seemed to fit.

.

"Do I _run into trees??_ No!! And who says I even _get_ overwhelmed?!" Eddie exclaims, getting a little loud and defensive again, but he's annoyed that Stan would imply he's like this dumb bird, and he _hates_ being made to feel dumb.

On top of that, there is a weird, sick, nervous feeling settling in his gut - something about this topic is throwing him off.

"Don't compare me to a dumb bird who can't even use its eyes properly! How have they even survived this long as a species if they just run into trees and _die_ all the time?"

He stops suddenly and stares, wide-eyed, at Stan. He swears he's dreamed this, or... something. But he's never heard of this bird in his life. ' _Must be deja vu, that's all.'_

.

Eddie could probably see the reflection of his emotions on Stan’s face as he stares back, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. The same uncomfortable feeling sits deep in his chest, making him feel like something is crawling under his skin. This... it's like he’s had this conversation already.

Stan nervously shifts his weight. This is just _impossible._ No. It doesn't make any sense. "I... I was just making a point. People act like that sometimes."

.

They simply stare at each other for a long moment, until Eddie’s nervous feeling makes its way up from his gut to his throat, at which point he turns away from Stan, gasping for air.

“Yeah, totally,” he says, voice tight. He quickly goes to rifle through a small duffel bag with his most important belongings inside (namely, medicine) and takes out his inhaler. As he shakes it and then triggers it into his mouth, he also withdraws his Xanax prescription. He’s going to need both a lot this year if things in his _own room_ are going to be this strange. He sets his inhaler down and his hands are shaking as he takes out one of his pills and swallows it dry - he’s in too much of a hurry to find water, and doesn’t really need it after so many years of taking pills.

“I’m just gonna go back to putting my stuff away,” he says, trying to push away the feeling of intense deja vu. “Have fun with your bird facts.” As he says this, Eddie waves his hand subconsciously in the direction of Stan’s bird book, despite not knowing at all what it is.

.

Stan's eyes follow Eddie's gesture, landing on the little, worn out bird book. It’s something small... something that probably was just an accident...

Pushing away the little bit of tension between them, Stan gives Eddie a more serious look. "Are you alright?"

.

“Huh? Oh.” Eddie looks down at the duffel bag on his bed, of which at least half the contents are various pill bottles. “Yes, I’m fine.”

He uses the inhaler once more for good measure and then takes a couple deep breaths. Already he can hardly remember what triggered this. “Asthma. And... allergies, and stuff. Sorry for all that... freaking out.”

.

Stan nods slowly. He feels like he once used to know a kid with asthma, maybe years ago, when he was a little kid? He fails at trying to place a face to that memory, though.

"It's okay. That sounds like a lot," he admits, but he can't be one to judge. Eddie's not the only person with pills here. "Does this happen often? The asthma attacks?"

.

"Uhh, yeah, I guess so." Eddie doesn't want to get into the intricacies of his asthma flare-ups - that it tends to happen more when he's wired or psyching himself out, but hardly ever when he's out jogging, and definitely not when he's taken a Xanax. That kind of talk tends to result in people thinking he's crazy, and he's _not_ crazy, so it's best to avoid the conversation altogether. He quickly zips up the bag - he'd put his medications away later. "Sorry in advance for annoying you with it."

.

"I think I can handle it," Stan says, hesitating for a moment before asking another question. "Where do you keep your inhaler? Just in case..."

Well, he can't have his roommate accidentally _dying_ in their room, can he?

.

Eddie stops what he's doing and looks up at Stan, surprised. "Oh, um, usually on me? Like in my pocket or my bag. I guess it'll just be on my desk at night..." He shifts uncomfortably. "You don't have to worry about it or anything, I'm good about handling it myself." He shoots Stan a small smile, appreciating the concern, even if it's unwarranted.

.

Stan nods, not getting deeper into their conversation. Somehow he is concerned about the other boy's health and he tries to reason it out with the fact that he just doesn't want any problems.

.

Relieved that Stan doesn't seem interested in pressing further, Eddie goes back to carefully putting away his belongings. The two fall into an easy, not entirely uncomfortable silence, only periodically breaking it to chat about innocuous things. By the time the afternoon ends, the room is set up - on one side, Stan's immaculately organized area, and on the other, Eddie's imperfect but still pretty organized one.

So maybe they got off to a rough start, and maybe there was that weird bit of deja vu, but after looking around their little living space and spending some time with Stan, Eddie is sure it won't be so bad living with him.

Well, _pretty_ sure, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Stan - [ao3: filthstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthstar); [tumblr: trashrichie](https://trashrichie.tumblr.com)  
> 


	2. Moving In, Part 2: Richie & Bill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite having little to no memory of ever being friends or even knowing one another, the Losers all happen to end up as roommates after transferring to UMaine. On move-in day, Bill and Richie hit it off right away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Friday, 08/24, afternoon; York Hall, Room 222**

Richie is finally at the campus and ecstatic to be on his own. Well, he will be sharing a room with another student, but he _is_ away from his parents' house. The house that only brings him loneliness. Now, he is walking up the stairs to his dorm, lugging his guitar and duffel bag. He still has other trash bags full of stuff in his truck, which he will go back to get after he drops off what he has.

When he gets to the room, it is empty besides two desks, two chairs, and two beds. There are small closets on either side of the room. The whole space is too small and clearly super old. Richie whistles.

“What a shithole.”

He tosses his stuff on a bed to the side. He looks at the beds and realizes they are the kind which can be turned into bunk beds just by plopping one on top of the other. Richie grew up an only child, so he never had a sibling to share bunk beds with. He finds himself hoping his roommate might be up for the idea, since it will create a lot more room and be fun.

Richie leaves to grab the rest of his stuff, but once he is back in the room with his three trash bags, duffel bag, backpack, guitar, and electric piano, he doesn't know what to do. He paces the room a bit, then plays Pokemon on his DS. His adrenaline is pulsing as he waits to meet his new roommate, with no mental capacity to unpack. He wants to make sure they are on the same page about where to put things and how to organize the room. Not that he really cares where anything goes. All he wants is a friend. Hopefully, his roommate will arrive soon before he explodes from anticipation.

.

It takes Bill pulling into a parking spot and walking up to the dorm building for him to fully realize he isn’t going back to Northwestern this year. It’s not like he’s super upset about going to UMaine instead, he’s here for his mother, after all, it just hasn’t sunk in yet that this is where he’s going. It’s a pretty campus and the dorm building seems nice enough, so he continues his walk inside to get checked in.

Once he’s done with that shit, he heads up to his room. Opening the door, he sees a guy sitting on one of the beds with his boxes still packed. ' _This must be the way life is now.'_   “Hi, I’m Bill, you must be my roommate.”

Obviously, he’s his roommate! Bill almost jumps out the window for being so stupid, but instead he just stands there with his boxes, waiting for a response.

.

Richie scrambles off his bed in excitement, almost falling on the floor in his haste. He sticks his hand out for Bill to shake and starts speaking at lightning speed, not even bothering to take a breath, “Hey there Billy boy! Name’s Richie Tozier, how the fuck are you man?! It’s awesome to meet ya. I’ve never had a roommate before, so I didn’t unpack because I thought you’d want to rearrange or whatever. There isn’t a lot of room and I have instruments to fit, but we’ll figure it out. What’s up, how was your drive?!”

.

Bill's honestly taken aback by how quickly Richie spoke and it takes him a few seconds to process everything. He places his boxes on the desk closest to him and reaches out to shake Richie's hand. He does want to rearrange the room, but he's not too sure the best way to do that yet. He realizes after a few moments that he's been shaking Richie's hand for an uncomfortable amount of time and that he hasn't answered any of his questions.

"I'm fine, the drive wasn't too bad." He's still shaking his hand. "We could definitely rearrange the room if you need to." _Still shaking it._ "You play music?" He finally comes to his senses and pulls his hand away, high key embarrassed.

.

They have the longest handshake ever, and that makes Richie feel like they are making a mobster deal. He likes the guy already. “Here’s lookin’ at you kid!” he says in his best Humphrey Bogart impression from Casablanca.

“I do play music! Piano, Guitar, drums, sometimes bass guitar but it is a boring ass instrument, and I sing. You can catch my singing shows in the showers.” Richie winks at him, then glances around at the room. “But yeah, it looks like the beds can be plopped on top of each other like bunk beds. That would create way more room. If you’re comfortable with that.”

.

Bill laughs slightly at his impression, glad he didn't fuck everything up with his extra long handshake. He looks around the room, mentioning jokingly that he'll have to catch one of his shows, and takes a look at the bed. He knows the front desk has locks to bunk the beds, and he honestly wouldn't mind having a bunked bed with Richie. "I'm definitely comfortable with that, it would give a lot more room in here."

.

Richie beams at him and holds eye contact. “Are you a top or a bottom?” Then he gives Bill an enormous smile, wiggling his eyebrows.

.

Bill sighs. He really should have expected that but he has to try to one-up him, so he continues holding eye contact with Richie. "I'm both."

.

Richie barks out a loud laugh, something that’s hard to get out of him. “Big Bill’s got jokes! I love it. I’m bi, _by_ the way. I assume that’s cool, based off your tactful reply.”

.

Bill nods in response, trying his best to not crack a smile. "It's definitely cool." He lifts up the sweater he's wearing to reveal a t-shirt that says ‘I <3 Gay Porn’ on it. "I'm pan." He breaks from his serious demeanor and laughs at himself.

.

Richie stares between the shirt and Bill, then keels over in laughter. He laughs so hard that he ends up on the ground with tears in his eyes. After his body no longer has the capacity to laugh, he looks up at Bill.

“This is already the best day of school and we haven’t even started classes.”

Richie, too lazy to get himself off the floor, puts his hand up for Bill to grab.

.

Bill reaches out and helps Richie get up from the floor. He's glad his shirt went over well and that his roommate doesn't have a stick up his butt. "I agree." Once Richie is off the floor, Bill looks around at the room, remembering all the boxes he needs to bring inside still. "I need to get the rest of my shit, but I think we should get the beds bunked before we do anything else."

.

“Rightio! You take the front of the bed and I’ll take the back.” Richie and Bill pile all of Richie’s stuff to the side so it is out of their way. They ungracefully lift the bed and sidestep to the other bed to start attempting to properly get the bed in place.

“This probably would have been easier if we took the mattress off first,” Richie grunts. They almost drop the bed on themselves with the third and final try, but Bill rights it at the last second and it locks into place. Richie does a ‘whoop’ motion and raises his hand up to hive-five Bill.

.

“It would have been _much_ easier,” Bill gives Richie a high-five while he’s still looking at the beds. They did a pretty good job with bunking the beds, even if they almost dropped it on themselves. “I’ll take the top bunk if that’s okay with you?”

.

“I’ll bottom any day, Billy.” Richie walks over to his trash bags filled with everything he owned and tosses them on the lower bunk. “Shall we grab the rest of your boxes?”

.

“Yeah, that would be great.” They head out and grab the rest of Bill’s things before settling down in the room to start unpacking both of their belongings. When Bill gets to the bed sheets he sighs, realizing it will be a lot harder to make his bed when it’s been bunked. “Houston, we have a problem.” He lifts the sheets up for Richie to see. “I have no clue how I’m going to make my bed.”

.

“I love the movie Apollo 13!” Richie says excitedly. He takes a look at the sheets then the top bunk, thinking to himself. “Well, time for some teamwork. Hop up on top to tuck in one side and I’ll stand on the other to help.”

.

“It’s a great movie!” _Yep, Richie’s awesome._ Bill’s so excited that he lucked out in the roommate department, especially since he’s going to help him make his bed. He does what Richie tells him to do and they get the bed made fairly quickly when they work together as a team. “Thanks for the help, Richie. Do you need help with your stuff?”

.

“I think I’m good, bro,” Richie says as he places the electronic keyboard on one of the desks. “I should probably practice today, but I’m too excited. Do you want to explore?” Bill smiles a little and agrees to come along. They start by knocking next door and meeting two nice girls. Richie flashes them a smile, telling them to meet in the common room in a couple minutes and if they have any drinks to spare to bring those, too. They start to head to the next door, but Richie comes up with a better idea.

Bill and him get back to their room. Richie grabs cords and plops them in a confused Bill’s hands, then snatches up his speaker. They walk into the common room of their floor, and Richie starts setting up the speakers. The two girls stroll in with some beers, one of whom makes hard eye-contact with Richie as she hands him a can. Looks like the two of them might hit if off, which was more than fine with him.

Richie scrolls through his phone to pick a song and shoots Bill a sneaky smile when he picks the song. He clicks _Turn Down for What_ , turning the music on medium high, then gets on a chair, cups his hands to his mouth. “If you are a motherfucking student on this floor get your asses in here! Town meeting y’all!” he yells, just before the beat drops hard.

.

The other residents start to make their way into the common room as Richie blasts his music. Bill can’t decide whether he wants to get on a chair with him or continue being slightly embarrassed. He was part of the party scene at his old school, but he doesn’t know if that’s the route he wants to take here, especially in a residence hall. After a while though, he decides to loosen up a little and grabs a beer that someone is holding out for him. It’s not like classes have started yet and it's only move in day. What’s the worst that could happen?

He jumps up on a chair next to Richie, the embarrassed blush still evident on his face, while he yells out, “You fuckers better be here soon!”

.

Richie claps Bill on the shoulder and clinks their beers together. He chugs the rest of the drink quickly, making a bit of a face since it has been a while. Once the room is filled with students, Richie switches the music to Avicii’s _Wake Me Up_ and turns the volume down to speak.

“Hello! My name is Richie and I am your RA - Resident Asshole!” There are laughs all around and whoops from some folks in the back. “If you ever need anything, I am here for you. Have weed to share? I will support you. Or need a friend to get plastered with? Name a time and place. Need someone to have meaningless sex with? I can assist you.” Richie salutes the laughing crowd then turns to Bill, gesturing for him to address the group.

.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ Bill hasn’t prepared anything. What even is his name?? He can’t remember. He’s not nearly as funny as Richie is. “Ummm...” _Bad start._ “I’m Bill... I’ll do all the things Richie can do, but I’ll probably be better than him.” That earns a laugh from the crowd as he smirks over at Richie. Well, he might not have meaningless sex... _maybe._ He wouldn’t be completely opposed. “I’m also here if you need a shoulder to cry on, ladies... Gents too.” He winks after that one, hoping he got his message across.

.

Richie laughs heartily. Being roasted already by his roommate is poetic brilliance to him. He raises his empty beer can. “Cans up! Here’s to a new school year! Hope it’s not shit! Cheers, mates,” he says, the last bit with a British accent. Everyone shouts ‘cheers’ back then start talking to each other. Richie changes up the music to something upbeat and loud. He spots the girl who gave him a beer earlier.

“Excuse me, Billiam. I need to get my flirt on.” He hops off the chair and bounces over to her.

.

Bill laughs at Richie’s shenanigans, feeling like he’s known him for his whole life. Everything about Richie seems familiar and he feels like they hit it off right away. They continue to party for a while before retiring to their dorm room and taking a nice snooze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> Bill - [ao3: hiyo_silver_away](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyo_silver_away); [tumblr: hiyo-silver-away](https://hiyo-silver-away.tumblr.com)  
> 


	3. Moving In, Part 3: Mike & Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite having little to no memory of ever being friends or even knowing one another, the Losers all happen to end up as roommates after transferring to UMaine. On move-in day, Ben and Mike nerd out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Friday, 08/24, afternoon; York Hall, Room 221**

Mike spent at least twenty minutes (if not more) sitting in his car after arriving on campus. He was ridiculously anxious; alone away from home, in a new town… new school, new _everything_. It's thrilling on one hand, but terrifying on the other, and he doesn't even know how to process it all. He'd never left Derry for more than a week or two in his entire _LIFE_. He felt like a fish out of water the second he saw the building. He tried to call home but no one picked up, so he tried again, but still nothing.

Obviously, the universe isn't having it with his second thoughts today.

So now, here he (finally) is, in his... not very impressive dorm room. Upon walking in, he simply raises his eyebrows; he hadn't really expected anything better. His roommate isn't here, which isn't a bad thing; it gives him time to bring all his things in and gather his thoughts. He doesn't even know if he should start unpacking. Should he wait for his roommate so they can decide who gets what side? Is there some kind of dorm room etiquette? God knows _he_ doesn't know, so he starts just putting his bags and stuff to the side so he actually has room to move in this tiny space.

.

The building's facade catches Ben's attention for a while, before he remembers the reason he’s actually there. It certainly looks different than Cal Poly, but he doesn't really mind. Leaning on the door of his old cadillac, he shakes his head and sighs. He turns around to get his bags from the back seat, closes the doors, and waits a few more seconds, just to breathe. Then he finally walks inside the dormitory.

It takes him a while to find his room, and when he does, it surprises him a little to find it already occupied by someone. He stands by the doorway, with bags in both of his hands, and nods at the boy. "Hey," he says and gives him a little smile, glancing at the door to make sure the room number is right.

.

Mike stands up as soon as Ben walks in, happy that his new roommate is finally here; as exciting as staring at the ceiling was, he really wants to get on with setting everything up. He holds his hand out for Ben to shake. "Hi, I'm Mike, nice to meet you. Need help with your things?" He points at his stuff, which he had shoved into the corner. "I already brought my things in, but I didn't know if you wanted to pick a side or... I don't know."

.

Ben smiles at him, drops the bag on the floor, and shakes his hand. "I'm Ben. Nice to meet you too. Oh, thank you." He lets him help with one of the bags and enters the room, shoving his own things into another corner. Ben runs his hand through his hair and scratches the back of his head. "I don't have a preference, do you?" He looks at him, waiting.

.

"Ben," Mike repeats but doesn't answer Ben's question. He stares at him curiously; he swears that this guy feels vaguely familiar, but he can't really put his finger on it, so he just pushes the thought aside for now.

"Oh, sorry, no," he shakes his head and smiles, not wanting to seem rude for staring. "You stay on that side then." And so he finally starts unpacking his bags, starting with his clothes, just unceremoniously throwing everything into his closet.

"So," he pipes up after a few minutes of surprisingly not uncomfortable silence. "Where are you from? What's your major? If you don't mind me asking."

.

Ben observes this guy as he stares at him, knowing he should feel creeped out, but he doesn't (well maybe just a little). Something about this _Mike_ made him feel weirdly comfortable. The situation makes him chuckle, but he decides not to say anything.

"Alright,” he says, and slowly starts putting his things in order as well. After he's done with the clothes in one of the bags, he sits down on his bed. It's not the best mattress he's ever used in his life, but it works well enough. When Mike talks he looks up at him and gives him a polite smile. He doesn’t particularly _enjoy_ sharing much, but this guy seems nice enough. "It's okay, uh." He rests his elbows on his knees as he talks. "I'm from California. I mean, I was there before I moved here... and the major's architecture. You?"

.

Mike whistles and walks over to sit down too. "Architecture, huh? Sounds hard. Mine's history. And, uh-" He shrugs. "I just transferred from Derry, it's just one town over. Not as impressive as _California_."

.

Ben tilts his head a little. "Derry?" He furrows his brows and leans in towards Mike. That word sounds almost like it belongs in a dream. "Derry." He says again, as if the name has been stuck in his mouth for who knows how long, and starts nodding to himself. "Derry..." Now it's just a whisper, rolling off his tongue. How could he-- ? Suddenly he remembers Mike is there with him, probably even more creeped out by _him_ than he himself felt before.

He shakes his head and laughs a little. "Sorry, I-- I zoned out a little, but, uh, Derry!" He taps his own knees a little too loud. "Yeah, I lived in Derry too, for a while. What a small world, isn't it?" He smiles, but his mind is so confused it's difficult to maintain it. "It's so crazy, I hadn't thought about Derry in... ages." There's a strange feeling in his chest growing and growing, but after a few seconds, it's completely gone, so he smiles again.

.

Mike's not gonna lie and say that he isn't at least a little bit creeped out by Ben's weird trance, but he's not one to judge. "...Yeah, well," he chuckles. "You're not missing much. It's the same as it's always been."

He stands up to get one of his boxes and places it on the bed to start unpacking it. _'Ben from Derry.'_ It keeps repeating in his mind as he pulls out books and posters and sets them aside. _'Ben from Derry'._.. sounds all too familiar. Weirdly familiar. Did he know this guy before? Not impossible, if they’re both from Derry. "I'm sorry," he pipes up suddenly and turns to looks at him, still holding his _Alien_ poster. "What's your last name? If you don’t mind me asking... again."

.

Ben is back to putting his things in order when Mike talks to him. "Uh? Hanscom. And you're Mike...?" He catches a glimpse of Mike's poster and grins. "Good movie, eh?" He reaches inside his bag and pulls out a worn out black t-shirt with an _Alien_  image printed on the front.

.

Mike laughs when he sees the shirt. "Only the best movie ever made! We'll get along. I'm Hanlon." Mike grabs some tape from his box and hops on the bed to start hanging up his posters. They’re all old and kinda worn since they'd been hanging in his bedroom since he was a young teen.

"Ben Hanscom," he mumbles to himself as he reaches for his Michael Jackson poster. He still can’t shake the feeling that he KNOWS this guy. "Ben Hanscom, Ben Hanscom... Hey," he speaks up finally. "Did we go to school together? I'm pretty sure I know your name."

.

"Mike Hanlon." For some reason, the name doesn't sound like the name of a stranger. Ben finishes putting his clothes into place and turns around to face Mike. "Did we? Mike Hanlon... I mean, it'd make sense. We probably did." He laughs and observes Mike for a second. "Yeah, I think we did."

He's not really sure about it, but it just feels right. The posters Mike is hanging on his wall make him smile, and he gets some sort of nostalgia he hasn't felt in a while. It also reminds him of the few boxes he left in the back of his car. "Ah, I need to go get some more stuff I left in the trunk... Be right back. Do you need anything? I could go get you a coffee maybe if you want, I don't know."

.

"Yeah... yeah, I think we did," Mike repeats absent-mindedly, spacing out for a minute as he stares at Ben with his last poster (Queen) still in his hands. It’s a vague, but still intense feeling, and it frustrates him that he can’t pinpoint exactly why he feels that way. But then he realizes Ben just asked him something, so he ignores the thought and shakes his head. "Oh, uh, I'm good, thanks. Do you need help, though?"

Ben shakes his head no and leaves the room, so Mike finishes hanging up his poster, then hops off the bed to start unpacking another small box full of his favorite books.

.

Back outside, Ben stands by his car, kind of spaced out, and a little blinded by the brightness of the day. Then he opens the trunk and takes out the three remaining boxes, putting them one on top of the other. He doesn’t feel like making two trips, and after estimating the weight of the boxes, he figures he can bring them in all at once. He closes the trunk and grabs the boxes, heading back to his room, walking carefully so as not to trip or bump into someone.

When he finally returns and leaves the boxes piled up next to his bed, a subtle, satisfied smile forms on his lips. He greets Mike again, and proceeds to decorate his side of the room as well. The first things he takes out are a Bob Dylan poster, which he already planned on hanging over his bed, and a little Millenium Falcon model, which he places on his nightstand. Then he looks at his empty wall with his hands on his hips, wondering what to do to make it look right. _'A floating shelf would look pretty neat,’_ he thinks, making a mental note to build one when he has the chance.

.

In the time it took Ben to bring his boxes up Mike finished stacking his books, put away the rest of his clothes, set up his desk, and made his bed. He lets Ben do his own thing is in silence for a bit as he struggles to untangle a bunch if cords he hadn't bothered to organize before packing, but then he notices the model spaceship on Ben's nightstand. "Oh, wow," he says as he walks over to check it out. "This looks amazing. Did you make it, Ben?"

.

Ben notices Mike looking at his model and smiles, blushing a little out of embarrassment. "Yeah, thank you." He looks at him for a second, considering if Mike was trustworthy enough to show him the rest. He wouldn't appreciate being mocked because of his old hobbies, but this guy seems just as into sci-fi as he is. "I have a few more, if you wanna see them," he says finally and shrugs.

.

"Oh, yeah!" Mike takes a seat on Ben's bed, ready to nerd out like a twelve-year-old. "Show me!"

.

Ben smiles, then proceeds to take out the other four models he kept from his collection (USS Enterprise, The Milano, Discovery One, and Narcissus) and places them next to first one. The two boys talk non stop about each one of them, and he grins and laughs all the way through. It’s so easy talking to this guy even though they've only known each other for a couple of hours. He feels that familiar sensation again, but he doesn't question it. He's too busy being a nerd.

.

After a while of nerding out about _Star Star_ and _Trek Wars_ and laughing, Mike feels much more relaxed than he did earlier; talking to Ben comes so naturally to him for some reason, it almost feels like... he's back home. Weirdly enough. It shouldn't make sense, and it doesn't - it's just a vague feeling, but it's comfortable.

"These are so cool," he says as he picks one up to examine it closer. "I'd never have the patience to make something so neat. Even my photo albums are messy." He hands the ship back to Ben so he can put them away.

.

"Thank you, they're really not that difficult to put together if you follow the instructions." Ben scratches his head again and puts the ship in its temporary place. "I made a few completely from scratch but, uh, I don't have them here." He laughs. "Oh, you have photo albums? That's so cool." Mike now has his attention, but he's not sure if he should ask to see them. Photo albums are usually way more personal than just fictional ships, after all. "I love those."

.

"Uhm, yeah," Mike replies, and walks back over to finish unpacking the rest of his things as he talks. "It's just a hobby; picked it up as a kid thanks to my dad, and never stopped. I have... at least a decade's worth of photo albums, come to think of it." He laughs and shakes his head. "Maybe it's weird, I don't know. I like documenting memories. I don't have any of them with me, though."

.

Ben listens to him, very focused, and finally whistles. "Wow, that's a long time. It sounds like a good gift, from your dad, I mean." He smiles. "I don't think it's weird, documenting memories is important, I think..."

_That strange sensation again._

"To remember where you... come from, what you've been through. Lets you relive those moments, feel those emotions again, right? Or at least, part of it." A subtle headache starts bothering him.

.

Mike smiles to himself. "Yeah, couldn't have said it better myself." After a moment's silence, he opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by loud music coming from outside their room; probably from the common room. "Jeez, sounds like a party down there," he says flatly and turns to Ben. "Should we go check it out?"

.

The sudden music surprises Ben, making him jump. "Isn't it a little too early to be throwing parties already?" Ben rubs his temples, hoping the headache goes away soon. He doubts it, with all that noise from the other side of the door, but a guy can dream. "No, I think I'll pass. You go if you want, I'll just... fix my stuff here."

He gives him a little smile and sits on the bed, but looking up at Mike, Ben considers it a bit more. His pain is starting to disappear and, after all, it’s a good chance to make a friend in Mike, to get to know him more. A chance to start all over again. "You know what, maybe I could use a drink. If they have any." He smiles and pats Mike's back as he follows him outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Ben - [ao3: hanscomarsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanscomarsh); [tumblr: hanscomarsh](https://hanscomarsh.tumblr.com)  
> Mike - [ao3: mikehanlonstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikehanlonstan); [tumblr: mikehanlonstan](https://mikehanlonstan.tumblr.com)  
> 


	4. First Meetings: Mike & Stan; Mike & Richie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first two in a series of odd first encounters: Mike and Stan meet in the library and talk about birds, then Richie runs into Mike in the community bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Sunday, 08/26, evening; Fogler Library**

Mike is visiting the library on his third day here. Who’s shocked? He’d been bored all morning and didn’t know what to do, since he doesn’t have anyone to hang out with and doesn’t even really know anyone, so here he is. The good ol’ trustworthy library.

He’s spent countless hours at the public library in Derry, either working or studying; it is almost like a second home to him now. It’s safe, reliable, and quiet. He spent many hours at the campus library of the community college, too, and since he’s been thinking about getting a part time job here, he’s actually curious to compare the two. His first impression is that it’s definitely nicer than the community college library, but not the public one… but maybe Mike is just sentimental and overthinking this library situation; probably nobody else does that.

After a few minutes of looking around and chatting with the student employees, Mike finally sits down at an empty table, pulls out one of his textbooks, and starts skimming through it without  _really_  paying attention, but that’s alright; he really just wants the comfort and peace of a library.

.

It’s only the third day and Stan is already finding himself wandering into the library. He’s not really the social kind, and making friends never came easy to him. He was only good at finding bullies through his school years - the perks of being that quiet, weird, Jewish kid.

Stan doesn’t really have anything better to do, though, so soon he’s sitting at a table with a book in front of him. When he hears a familiar bird singing outside, he immediately looks up, searching for the little robin. After seeing nothing outside the window, he’s about to go back to his book when suddenly his eyes land on a boy across the room. Stan shifts in place nervously, noticing with a grimace that the kid’s glasses are  _crooked_. His hand jumps to play with his curls while he tries to focus back on the text in front of him. 

After reading the same page for the third time and still not knowing what it’s about, Stan bites his lip. It’s always the small things bothering him, little details that no one should care about. Finally, he stands up and crosses the library to stand in front of the other boy. “Uh, fix it,” he simply states.

.

Mike is pulled out of his wandering thoughts and looks up to see a total stranger looking down at him, telling him to ‘fix it’. He doesn’t reply immediately because he’s so confused. He blinks, looks behind him to make sure the boy is actually talking to  _him_ , then turns back to him and squints. “I’m sorry, fix… what, exactly?”

.

Stanley bites his lower lip. “Your glasses, they’re crooked… wait.” After a short second of hesitation he reaches for the other boy’s glasses, adjusting them on his nose. He almost shivers when the gesture and the boy’s confused eyes feel weirdly familiar. He pulls his hand back suddenly, a little too quickly, as if the glasses frame burned his fingertips. “Now, that’s better.”

.

Mike sits completely still while the boy fixes his glasses for him (most of the time he doesn’t even realise when they’re crooked, which often causes him headaches), the gesture leaving him with an overwhelming feeling… of nostalgia? Familiarity? But he can’t quite place it…

There’s a faint ringing in his ears as he blinks up at the boy, and he could swear for a second there that he knows him, but within seconds, the feeling is gone. He doesn’t know this person. Still, his gesture makes Mike laugh; a soft, good-natured laugh. “Yeah, actually.” He smiles. “That’s a lot better, my head was starting to hurt. Thank you.” He holds his hand out for him to shake. “I’m Mike.”

.

Stan quickly tries to push away the weird, familiar feeling that makes him slightly nauseous. There’s no way they knew each other; he’d  _remember_. Maybe he just didn’t get enough sleep. “Stan,” he introduces himself, lightly shaking Mike’s hand. He brought his book with him, so he sits down next to the boy. Somehow, it doesn’t feel awkward.

.

Mike could barely focusing on what he was reading  _before_ , so there’s no way he can go back to it now that there’s someone here to distract him. Stan’s already zoned back into his book, so all he can do is steal glances; he knows better than to bother someone absorbed in a good read, but at the same time, he’s itching to get a conversation started.

“Good book?” he asks finally, and when Stan looks at him in confusion, he smiles nervously. “Your, uh. Your book. What is it?”.

.

Stan leans closer to Mike, putting his book on the table. He doubts that Mike will actually be interested; his roommate, Eddie, already seemed to judge his hobby. “It’s about birds. That’s my hobby.”

.

Mike leans an inch closer too, weirdly having no trouble sitting this close to a total stranger, to scan the page Stan is on. Mike… isn’t the biggest fan of birds, but the illustrations are beautifully detailed and the book itself is worn, which he always likes in a book. Stan himself looks anxious to be sharing it, though. “Oh, I love the illustrations… I’m a little bit scared of birds myself,” he adds with a nervous chuckle. “But to each their own. Do you bird-watch, too? Or just read?”

.

Oh, looks like  _someone_  seems to at least pretend to be interested, instead of straight up judging. 

Stan shifts in place, moving his book a bit towards Mike so the other boy can see the illustrations. He decides not to comment on his seemingly irrational fear of birds, instead focusing on the question. “I birdwatch too. A bit less than I used to, because, well, school.” He shakes his head with a fond smile. Stan has no idea why he’s already sharing so much with Mike, but it somehow feels easy to do so.

.

“I don’t think I could focus long enough to bird-watch without company. Your patience is impressive,” Mike says as he absentmindedly flips through the pages.

.

“It can be hard sometimes, but it’s rewarding. Most common birds don’t require too much focus, though, so starting isn’t hard. Have you ever tried?”

.

“Oh, me? No.” Mike laughs and sits back in his chair. “I was raised on a farm, so the chickens were enough as is. I’m scared of them, remember? I have different hobbies.” He shifts a little so he’s facing Stan. “So what’s your major? Zoology?”

.

Stan shakes his head. “It’s accounting, actually. Birds are only a hobby… but, maybe I could show you some birds that aren’t as scary as chickens.”

.

Mike raises an eyebrow, but smiles nonetheless. “You want to take me on a bird-watching date already? I’m flattered.” His phone suddenly vibrates and he checks to find a text from his mom. It’s getting a little late, so it’s probably time to head back to his room. “Hey, uh,” he says as he starts to put his things away. “I have to make a call, but I’d like to hang out. Can I have your number?”

.

Stan’s cheeks burn a bit, hoping that Mike doesn’t actually think about it as a real date. He just wouldn’t mind some company, that’s all. He nods then, not moving from his seat yet. He immediately rattles off his number for Mike, scratching his forearm absently as Mike inputs his number and goes on his way.

“Uh, and the last digits are 4 and 7,” he says eventually, scratching his forearm absently as Mike finishes inputting his number and goes on his way.

 

* * *

**Sunday, 08/26, late night; York Hall**

Bill and Richie spent most of the day being lazy, playing hours of  _Until Dawn_  on Richie’s PS4. Richie was constantly jumping, cringing, grabbing Bill’s arm, and laughing when he got scared. They passed the control back and forth, desperately trying to save every single character. They get ready for bed when it is around 2:00 AM, but Richie hates going to sleep without showering, so he strips, throws a towel around himself, grabs his shower caddy, and heads to the public restrooms.

As he opens the door, there is a man at the sink struggling to take out his contact lenses. Richie can relate since he wears his contacts every other day or so. He even wears them half the time when he showers. Tonight, he will suffer washing himself basically blind, hoping he doesn’t fucking use conditioner before shampoo like usual. 

“How’s the contact life treating ya, dude?” Richie makes conversation as he adjusts his bulky glasses.

.

Mike’s been struggling to take off his contacts for about five minutes before some other guy walks in, and it’s not that he doesn’t notice him; it’s just that he’s occupied and, honestly, not used to people chatting with him out of the blue like that. So when he speaks, it startles him so much that he nearly drops his contacts’ case in the sink (“Shit!”) and god knows he doesn’t want to drop them in this nasty dorm bathroom sink of all places.

With the crisis averted, he sighs, tucks the case back in his caddy, and turns to the stranger who startled him. He looks around the room to make sure that he’s really the one he’s talking to. “I’m sorry, what?” Then he realizes that he can’t see the guy. “Sorry, wait.” He puts his glasses on, and now he can vaguely recognize the stranger as that very…  _very_  loud boy from the party the other night. “I’m sorry, uhm. Hi. What?”

.

Richie smiles at the guy’s clumsiness, not even feeling sorry for scaring him. Nice for someone else to be scared tonight, since he is going to have  _Until Dawn_ nightmares. “I fucking hate taking out my contacts. But I’m blind and usually need them even when I shower, so what can ya do? I’m Richie!”

.

“Oh, heh, yeah,” Mike chuckles, still a little thrown off by the sudden conversation. “Mike. And yeah, I think I saw you around the other night.” It takes him a hot second, but he finally realizes that Richie is, in fact, practically naked, which makes ‘Newbie to Dorm Life’ Mike a little bit embarrassed. Now  _that’s_  a dorm thing he’ll have to get used to. He just hopes his awkwardness doesn’t show. “Isn’t it a little late for a shower?”

.

Richie leans on the sink next to Mike and does a once over, noting that the guy is attractive with great facial hair. “I’ve been playing video games all day with my roommate, as in literally we only moved to order food, then kept playing. Didn’t realize how late it got.”

.

Mike totally misses that once over because he’s busy taking his toothbrush out. He fiddles with it while Richie talks; he really wants to just brush his teeth and go to bed, not too keen on having conversations with a naked person in a bathroom at 2:00 AM. But the guy is friendly, so it’d be rude to just leave. Plus, he’d have to shower eventually. “Sounds fun,” he says finally. “Must’ve been some game.”

.

“It was Until Dawn, which is a thriller game. I was basically screaming at every single jump scare.”

.

Mike laughs a little. “You don’t happen to live across the hall from me, do you?” he asks jokingly. “The people across the hall in room 222 were making noise all night, I didn’t know what to think of it.”

.

“Yep! Me and my roommate, Bill.” Richie pats Mike on the shoulder. He’s surprised at how easily the touch happens and pulls away, a bit confused. “Feel free to visit us anytime. I better shower and let you do your  _thang_.”

.

Given how uncomfortable the situation was up to this point, the touch should make Mike tense, but it doesn’t. It actually makes him laugh before he can stop it; it just bubbles out and confuses him, because Richie didn’t do anything remotely funny. “Uh… yeah.” He squints at the ground as Richie begins to walk away, but within seconds, the strange feeling is gone.

“Wait,” he shakes his head and turns to Richie again, who is just about to step into the shower. “Wait, are you actually our neighbors? Is the screaming going to be a regular thing?”

.

“I can’t speak for Big Bill, but I’ve always been loud in every sense of the word.” Richie grins broadly before stepping into the shower, taking off his glasses, and turning on the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> Mike - [ao3: mikehanlonstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikehanlonstan); [tumblr: mikehanlonstan](https://mikehanlonstan.tumblr.com)  
> Stan - [ao3: filthstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthstar); [tumblr: trashrichie](https://trashrichie.tumblr.com)  
> 


	5. First Meetings: Richie & Eddie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Richie unknowingly reunite during their very first class of the year - Human Resource Management.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Monday, 08/27, 8:00am; Corbett Business Building**

One of the first things Eddie realized when he arrived on campus a few days ago was that this university is… obnoxiously huge. Definitely bigger than Fordham, and much, much bigger than the community college he was at last year. So, on the morning of the first day of classes, he gets up extra early, anticipating possibly getting lost on the way to class. The last thing he needs is to be _late_ on the first day, make an awful first impression, and let everyone there know he’s an idiot transfer student.  
  
At around 7:15, he leaves his dorm building, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of plum colored skinny jeans, teal Vans, and a lightweight gray cardigan over a simple black t-shirt. He’s well aware that most of his classmates will probably be rolling in wearing the same sweatpants they slept in, but if there is one positive thing he got out of his upbringing, it’s how to project the image of perfection even when he’s freaking out on the inside. Being well put together and sporting a fake smile went a long way, in his experience, both at home and out in the world.

Of course, it doesn’t end up being at all difficult to find the right building - Eddie has always had an innately good sense of direction, and a glance or two at the campus map on his phone is all he really needs. So, he arrives a good twenty minutes early and has enough time to grab a coffee before heading to the room where he would be taking his ‘Human Resource Management’ course. He takes a seat toward the back of the room - not all the way back, but far enough to hopefully be unassuming should the professor start calling on people right out of the gate. He takes the required textbook and a notebook out of his bag and waits, watching as various other students start to filter into the room.

.

Richie is running  _so_  fucking late to class. He set two alarms to wake up, but unsurprisingly slept through both. He blames the weed that he smoked before bed. It knocked him out too hard. He quickly shoves his glasses on his face, applies Axe, tosses on a striped t-shirt, checkered shorts, and his signature red converse. Then he runs his hands through his untamable hair, grabs his books, and sprints out the door.

He, of course, gets extremely lost. The campus is impossible to navigate, and huge. When he finally finds the building and classroom, class is already ten minutes in, but he bursts through the door anyway. “Sorry, teach!” Richie heaves out, trying to catch his breath. “I’m a transfer so I got lost. I’m sure your syllabus speech was an enthralling and evocative performance. I am sorry to have missed it.”

The professor does not look pleased. “Please, take a seat Mr…?”

“Richie! Richie Tozier,” he answers with a bow that gets a couple of students laughing.

An expression of realization passes over the teacher’s face. “Oh yes, you came highly recommended from the University of Southern Maine. Gave one of my colleagues a migraine for two years, but you somehow left quite a remarkable impression.”

“I leave my mark everywhere I go.” Richie glances at a girl in the front row, who laughs at his joke. He smiles and winks at her, then surveys the classroom for a place to sit. He notices a spot toward the back - a perfect location to take a morning nap.

When he gets to the spot, he notices the guy sitting next to the seat and stops dead. His heart aches in a way it has not for as long as he can remember. All breath leaves his lungs as he stares open jawed at the small, delicate man before him. He has neat brown hair which Richie has the urge to run his hands through and big eyes he could gaze into forever. He holds himself with an air of energized power that Richie cannot fully comprehend, so he just stands there, chair completely forgotten, absolutely mesmerized.

.

Eddie watches this scene unfold with extreme secondhand embarrassment. This was literally  _exactly_ what he wanted to avoid for himself and yet here this guy is, apparently proud of his obnoxious entrance. On top of this, he looks like he got dressed in the dark, despite the sun being fully out on this late August morning, and - “Oh fuck,” Eddie mumbles to himself, noticing that this new addition - Richie - is heading right for the empty seat beside him. He sinks down in his chair a little. Isn’t there be an empty seat literally  _anywhere_ else??  
  
He nervously taps his pen against his notebook and waits for Richie ( _what was his last name? it sounded familiar_ ) to take a seat. When that doesn’t happen for a long, uncomfortable moment, Eddie glances over, only to be met with Richie standing there, staring at him, his glasses sitting slightly askew on his face. He looks away as quickly as he can, and then looks back over when Richie still doesn’t sit down. “Can I help you?” he hisses quietly, suddenly feeling like everyone in the room is looking at him now.

.

Richie sucks in sharply, realizing he had stopped breathing and that this beautiful man has spoken. He is speechless. No one has ever managed to do that to him. He clears his voice and sits down. “In more ways than one.” He puts his books on the desk but still cannot stop looking at him.

.

Eddie’s shoulders tense and he looks toward the front of the room with determination. Great, now he has to deal with  _this_. It isn’t the first time he’s heard a line like that - men in New York were  _overly_  forward more often than not - but there is something about this guy that makes him especially uneasy. Maybe it’s all the staring. He can literally  _feel_  his eyes on him, despite how blatantly he’s trying NOT to return the look. Eventually, though, his resolve cracks and he shoots Richie a glare. “Can you  _stop?_  I’m trying to pay attention.”

.

“And I’m trying to memorize what you look like. I’ve got shit eyesight, so I have to admire beauty when I can.” But Richie does turn his attention toward the professor, mentally kicking himself for being weird. The teacher is droning on about expectations for the course and required readings. Richie read through all his books before he got to campus. There is nothing in this class that will pose a problem. Except maybe this guy that he is still sneaking glances at.

.

“God…” Eddie mutters, leaning pointedly away from Richie and propping his elbow up on his desk to rest his chin in his hand. He can’t keep the redness from creeping into his cheeks, but at the same time… judging by the way he winked at that girl in the front row a few minutes ago, Richie would probably be saying this to whoever he ended up sitting next to. Eddie just  _happens_ to be the 'lucky’ winner. Determined not to engage, he focuses on doodling on his course syllabus instead.

.

Richie is already losing interest in this lecture. Human Resource Management is about as interesting as watching a snail crawl. He starts drumming the beat to Van Halen’s  _Hot For Teacher_  with two pens, while lightly humming it.

.

It isn’t long before the couple of girls in the next row turn around and give Richie disapproving looks, and Eddie wants to die by association. It’s inexplicable, but he feels like he’s somehow  _in_  on this, like any judgment anyone makes about Richie will somehow also be applied to him. It makes no sense, but he just  _knows_  those girls are judging him, too. Eddie looks over at him, eyes wide, desperate, and clearly irritated. “Will. you. please.  _stop?!_ ”

.

Richie grins at him. “Not a Van Halen lover? No, you look more like a Journey fan. Probably have  _Don’t Stop Believing_  on your phone.” Richie finishes the end of the verse then puts the pens down. He immediately starts bouncing his leg up and down subconsciously.

.

“Actually no, but thanks - now I’ll have that song stuck in my head all day.” Eddie notices that the jittery movements just seemed to transfer from one body part to another, and he wonders if this dude had way too much coffee already today, or if he’s just like this all the time. Is this going to happen every single class?? Fuck.

.

“Not the worst song to have stuck in your head. But if you prefer another, I can serenade you with whatever you want… what’s your name?” he asks with a quiet desperation. Richie feels like his soul depends on knowing his name.

.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Well first, is every other thing you say going to be a  _line?_  Because it’s not going to work.”

.

Richie feels a little bit of frustration. Clearly, making this guy smile is going to be a challenge. One he will gladly accept. “Excuse you. Everything I say is completely original and unrehearsed. There is no ‘line’ -” He does quotation marks with his hands. “- about what I say.”

.

“ _Please_ ,” Eddie says with a little scoff - quietly, of course, so as not to attract the attention of their professor. “I bet you talk like this to everyone you meet. Has it  _ever_ actually worked?”

.

“My natural charm works all the time,” Richie shoots back, then sticks his tongue out childishly. “Well, if you won’t tell me your name… there’s a sea of nicknames at my disposal to call ya instead.”

.

Eddie’s eyes narrow. He’s never been a fan of nicknames, so the prospect of having to deal exclusively with nicknames is enough to get him to give his actual name. “It’s Eddie.” He pointedly holds up his syllabus, which neatly has _Eddie Kaspbrak_  written in the top right corner. “Which is  _already_  a nickname, and one is enough, thanks.”

.

“Eddie…” Richie says it like a prayer. His eyes examine the paper and then Eddie’s face carefully. Something about that name runs through Richie’s blood and warms his heart. He cannot help blurting out, “That’s a fucking  _perfect_ name.”

.

The professor and a few other students momentarily look in their direction, and Eddie sinks down in his seat again, cheeks reddening. After clearing his throat, their professor goes back to his very _thorough_  overview of the syllabus. Eddie glances over at Richie with a skeptical look on his face. “What are you _talking_  about? It’s just a name.”   
  
He examines Richie for another moment or two before turning back toward the front of the room. It’s decided - he does  _not_  like this guy. Richie reminds him too much of the kinds of guys he had incidents with back in New York, the very type he used to gravitate toward for whatever reason. But that was  _before_. Those men were bad influences at best and horrible assholes at worst, and he isn’t about to let himself get charmed by another one on the first day of his ‘fresh start’. “Listen, I’m kind of here to  _learn_ so, can you find someone else to distract?”

.

Richie takes Eddie’s syllabus and starts writing something while he says, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet. So Eddieo would, were he not Eddieo call’d, retain that dear perfection which he owes.” As Richie finishes speaking the Shakespearean snippet, he hands the syllabus back. On the paper he has written his cell number and a note saying  _‘If you need a new friend, I have none.’_ Then he goes back to focusing on the professor, finally taking his notebook out to write some notes.

.

Eddie looks down at the note on his syllabus and can’t completely contain the smile trying to break through his uptight exterior. And  _just_  when he decided not to be charmed, too. He pulls his lips to the side and chews on the inside of his cheek, quickly weighing the pros and cons of talking to Richie. The cons remain everything he was thinking moments ago about his experiences in the city… the pros? He  _also_  doesn’t have any friends. Certainly not here, and not really back in New York either.  
  
He looks over at Richie and watches him write, taking note that he’s still fidgeting like he’s had way too much caffeine. His outfit really _is_  ridiculous. And he’s certainly  _some_ type of full of himself. But maybe Eddie shouldn’t write him off just yet. “I’m a transfer, too. You uh, said you were when you walked in earlier,” he adds quickly, realizing just saying he was a transfer student out of the blue might be weird. “So I don’t really know anyone yet, either, besides my roommate. So… yeah.” He pauses for a beat. “Just… don’t call me _Eddieo_  again.”

.

Richie whips his head toward Eddie, his hair getting in his face for a moment. He pushes it back. “You transferred too? What a coincidence! From where?” His fingers tug on the bracelet around his wrist. It seems crazy he would meet another transfer on his first day of classes.

.

“Um, New York. Not like, Manhattan though… just Queens. This is actually my second time transferring,” Eddie says quietly, momentarily taken aback by how easily that second piece of information slipped out. It isn’t  _exactly_  a big secret, but it also wasn’t necessary to say it. He shrugs, brows furrowed. “It’s no big deal, though, it just means I have to take an extra class or two to catch up. So… that will suck. Where are you coming from?”

.

“Born, raised, and mildly concerned that I will die in Maine. My ‘rents live in Portland, which is a two hour drive from here.” Richie bites his lip nervously. He hates how uninteresting his life has been, only living in one state and with his parents for so long. Eddie is already legions more interesting than Richie can hope to be.

“But you’re a city boy! That’s so cool. Were you apart of a singing, dancing and snapping gang? You’ve got the slicked back hair for it.”

.

“My hair is not  _slicked back_ , first of all, it’s just _styled_. And I’m not part of some barbershop quartet - what are you, from the 1950’s?” Eddie smirks and runs his hand through his hair, as if to check that it really  _isn’t_ all that slicked back. He glances toward the front of the room, but the professor is still droning on, and at this point they aren’t the only students engaging in quiet side conversations, either. “And I know where Portland is. I was in that area all summer with my grandparents. It’s -” He stops himself from saying 'it’s a long story’, because that would only invite questions. “It’s uh, a sneaky way to get in state tuition.”

.

“Tell me about it…  _stud_ ,” Richie says in a husky, sultry voice as he pretends to have a cigarette in his mouth. “Bad boy type who skates around expensive tuition costs and is way out of my league, be still my heart.” He places a hand over his chest dramatically, then gives Eddie grin.  “But yeah, I’ve lived there since I was like fifteen and just moved out of my parents place. Fucking finally.”

.

Eddie can feel the heat in his face when Richie says 'be still my heart’, and it occurs to him in that moment that if this continues unchecked, he’s going to have a hard time getting a decent grade in this course. So he’s relieved when Richie brings the subject back to himself, creating some semblance of normal conversation. “Yeah, I get that. It can be difficult living at home as an adult.” Eddie says this with a very stiff smile, and it’s clear from his demeanor that 'difficult’ is an understatement. “It’s weird being back in Maine. But I’d rather be here than in New York, honestly.”

.

Richie observes Eddie suddenly tense up when speaking of his family. It seems like he keeps preventing himself from revealing truths about his life. This makes Richie a bit sad for him. He knows the feeling of loneliness and being misunderstood. If Eddie gets anything out of this school, he hopes it will be a new friend that he can confide in. Maybe that person can be Richie. There is nothing Richie values more than truths, whether they are light or heavy. 

“It’s too bad New York treated you bad. No one deserves to be put in shitty situations. You especially don’t because you’re…” Richie stops speaking abruptly. What was he about to say? Because  _what?_  He doesn’t even know Eddie. He shifts uncomfortably and pushes his glasses, which have fallen a bit, to the bridge of this nose. “Because you seem like a decent guy.”

.

Eddie smiles as he watches Richie fix his glasses, though there’s no reason for such a simple action to draw any kind of reaction out of him. Still, it does - it’s cute, admittedly, and makes Richie look almost childlike for just a moment. Everything from the habitual nature of the movement to the blatant and distracting smudges on both lenses momentarily lifts the veil of cockiness Richie entered the room with. It makes Eddie  _want_  to know him. And as he makes these observations, he’s hit with a small wave of nostalgia, and not for the first time since arriving on campus. He yet again attributes the feeling to simply being so close to his hometown, but it makes him uncomfortable all the same.   
  
Richie’s words don’t  _exactly_  help alleviate the feeling of discomfort, so Eddie’s smile falters as he shakes his head. “You have no idea whether or not I’m decent. I’ve hardly even been _nice_  to you for this entire class period.” He pauses for a beat. “And on that note, you really ought to clean your glasses. I can’t imagine you can actually see with how smudged they are. Sort of defeats the purpose, don’t you think?”

.

“I have zero filter. Your behavior towards me isn’t that uncommon.” Richie shrugs, unconcerned. “As for knowing you’re a decent person, I just have a gut feeling about it. And I always listen to my gut. Especially when it’s hungry.”

When he says this he starts to think about food and how he didn’t have breakfast.  _Fuck_. He tries to push it away as he gives Eddie a crooked smile. “And I’m a bisexual disaster. My glasses being smudged is a requirement. Besides, I have nothing to clean ‘em with,  _MOM_.” Richie exaggerates the last word and rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. He thinks about how his actual mother wouldn’t care about his glasses and can feel his face fall a little.

.

Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes as well, before leaning down and opening his school bag, which is an unassuming brown satchel. When he sits back up, he has a small travel pack of tissues in his hand, which he pointedly drops onto Richie’s desk. “Well, now you do. Here’s a bit of advice: don’t go around trying to pick people up by saying you’re 'admiring their beauty’ when you can’t even _see_  clearly.”

.

Richie chuckles and takes out one of the tissues. He plucks his glasses off his face and starts cleaning them as he says, “Now you are a beautiful blob to my blind ass. Does that make you feel any better?”

.

“Not really.” Eddie leans back in his seat and taps his pencil on his notebook a couple of times. “And anyway, I’m talking to you now, so you can stop saying things like that.”

.

“Stop being honest? Not in my nature.” Richie wipes away all the fingerprints and dirt, then places the glasses on his face, blinking in awe. “It’s a whole new world! Everything’s in 3D and technicolor!” He hands the tissue packet back to Eddie. “Thanks for the handkerchief, my dear.”

.

Flushing, Eddie busies himself with putting the tissues away, hoping that Richie doesn’t notice his flustered state. Where does he get off, calling Eddie  _‘my dear’_  not even an hour after meeting? And all of the other complimentary nonsense… Eddie knows better than to fall for it, but the part of him that craves affection is, in this moment, completely betraying his more sensible side. He  _can’t_  get caught up in this, he  _needs_  to focus on school this year. _Just_  school, no distractions.  
  
“Listen…” Eddie looks over at Richie again, keeping his expression serious. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, and maybe this tactic works on drunk idiots at parties, but I can see right through it. If…  if you really just want a new friend, fine…  _maybe_  we could become friends. But that’s all.”

.

 _‘Tactic? What the fuck is this shorty on about?’_  Richie stares at him for a minute, opens his mouth, then closes it again. This guy really does not want to give him a chance. He can feel his cheeks heat up a little with embarrassment. He so rarely gets flustered and cannot pinpoint why Eddie is making him feel this way… as if he is inadequate. Once his brain catches up with his mouth he says, “You’re right. We don’t know each other. So it is pretty presumptions of you to think I want more than friendship. You must think very highly of yourself.”

.

Eddie stares at him, wide-eyed and just flabbergasted. “Excuse me??” he hisses, leaning in so he can rant and still keep his voice down. “I am _not_  presumptuous.  _You’re_ the one who came in here talking about admiring my 'beauty’ and offering to  _serenade_  me… reciting Shakespeare and shit, trying to make _me_  uncomfortable at 8:00 AM on a Monday morning." 

He’s speaking very fast, and he can feel his face burning. Eddie knows that if he were in any other scenario, he’d be able to just ignore this or passively put up with it, because that’s always easier… but something about Richie is rendering him unable to keep his mouth shut. "You come in here acting like you own the place, winking at people and bragging about your 'natural charm’, and  _you_  think _I_  think highly of myself?? What a joke. You should be a comedian.”

.

Richie smiles at the spit-fire next to him. He spoke so quickly that even Richie’s fast paced brain has to take an extra second to process. “Eh, not enough money in being a comedian or fame. But I’ve always wanted to be on SNL. Although, hearing you had a bad time in New York makes me rethink living there.”   
  
Suddenly, a line of music flows its way into Richie’s mind. He brings his notebook forward to write the melody down quickly. It’s a tune he  _swears_  he knows. Except every time it comes back to him it almost immediately disappears, like his very soul cannot hold onto the notes. He manages to write out eight bars, then it’s gone again. He runs his fingers through his hair, biting his lip hard to hold back a laugh of excitement.  _This is huge_. He’s  _never_ gotten this much of the line out before. Where did it come from? It isn’t from anything he knows. Did he write this himself? He keeps pondering this as he stares intently at the music, wishing his piano was in front of him.

.

Eddie’s expression softens a bit when Richie doesn’t come back at him with anger. “… New York isn’t so bad. It’s just overwhelming, and it’s easy to make bad choices. Don’t let  _me_  change your mind about SNL if that’s what you want to do.” It hadn’t occurred to him that Richie actually might want to do something akin to being a comedian - he was just being snarky when he made that comment. But did feel right, even if it  _was_  meant as a dig. “And anyway, there are tons of comedians that are really famous.”   
  
As he talks, he watches Richie write something in his notebook, and stops his little spiel about comedians when he sees Richie’s face light up. He tilts his head to try to get a better look at what he just jotted down. “What are you doing?”

.

Richie lightly runs his fingers against the table, trying picture a piano in front of him, desperately wanting to hear the phantom music in his head. It occurs to him that this is something he has to play on guitar. Except his stupid guitar is back at the dorm. He is a teacher’s assistant in the music building next, so perhaps he can burrow one. He is so wrapped up in this music line that he ignores what Eddie is saying to him until he asks him a question.   
  
His eyes remain on the music as he says, “Nothing… it’s just… um…” Richie’s not sure how to explain what’s happening because he can barely figure it out himself, but something in him says he can trust Eddie enough to try explaining. “A tune popped in my head and I can’t figure out if I wrote it or if it is from something else. Do you read music? Maybe you can tell.” He pushes the notebook toward him. “It’s a tune that always tries to play in my head, but I’ve never captured so much of it before in writing.”

.

Eddie shakes his head. “No, I don’t really know anything about reading or writing music, I just listen to it.” He smiles a little and slides the notebook back over. “It’s so frustrating not being able to figure out what song is stuck in your head. I’m pretty sure there are apps for that, though,” he says unhelpfully, then leans back in his seat again. “So you write music? That’s cool.”

.

Richie keeps reading the musical line over and over, wishing his mind would focus but it’s no use. The memory of the song is not going to come to him. “Sometimes, I do. Writing music is really hard because I have to be ‘inspired’ or whatever. Not much really inspires me nowadays. I prefer to listen and analyze music, it’s one of my minors.”

.

“Hm. Well, analyzing is cool, too. Sometimes I think I do that too much… like, overthink things - not with music, just in general.” Eddie shrugs and shifts in his seat, again annoyed at himself for revealing even the tiniest piece of information about his life. “But, um… well, you’re in a new place now, right? Maybe you’ll get your inspiration back.”

.

“I never think, so I’m jealous you can overthink.” Richie laughs.

.

“Hm.” Eddie looks at Richie with blatant skepticism in his eyes. “Good luck with that minor built around thinking then. Also, I don’t believe you.”

.

Richie gives an amused smile. “You don’t believe I don’t think? Is my wit finally softening you in this friendship?”

.

“Pretty  _presumptuous_  of you to assume I still want to be friends after you said I’m presumptuous,” Eddie says flatly, though he’s unable to keep the mirth out of his eyes. “You must think _very_ highly of yourself.”

.

Richie puts a hand quickly over his mouth before he lets out a burst of laughter at Eddie’s response. Having his own words thrown back at him is one of his favorite experiences, as long as it is done in a playful manner. He stares at Eddie and a wave of longing washes over him. He isn’t sure what the longing is for, but it is a deeply ingrained and intense emotion. It gives him goosebumps and he has to look away from him.

“Well, I want to be friends with you. If you’re free tonight, you should come to dinner with my roommate and I. You can totally bring someone with you, like your roommate or something.”

.

“Such a formal invitation just to go to the dining hall.” Eddie smiles and drops his gaze to his course syllabus, specifically the corner where Richie scrawled his number and note. “Um, well, I’m not sure about bringing my roommate. He’s kind of…”  _Intimidatingly prim?_  “Well, I don’t really know him well, yet. But… sure, I’ll meet up with you and your roommate later.”

.

“Well, as you can tell from everything about me, I am an extremely formal guy.” Richie gestures to his ensemble then grins toothily at him. “Also, we aren’t going to the dining hall. That would be lame to do our first night. I want Chinese, so I’m gonna make Big Bill drive us downtown.”

.

Eddie makes a face. “Big Bill? What kind of name is  _that?_ ”

.

“The nickname rolled off my tongue when I met him, like most do.” Richie gives Eddie a sneaky smile. “For example, your name is easy peasy - Eddie Spaghetti. It rhymes, and you’re thin like a noodle.”

.

“That’s…  _awful._ ” Eddie laughs quietly and shakes his head. He certainly doesn’t like the nickname, but he doesn’t hate it either, at least not as much as he probably should. But there’s no  _way_  he’ll say that out loud. “It’s even worse than 'Eddieo’ from earlier…” He moves to rest his chin in his hand as he repeats that name, and suddenly a terrible thought comes to him. “Y'know, I’m just going to get ahead of this and request that you  _not_ put the two together.” He smirks a little. “Eddieo Spaghetti-o. Can’t get worse than that.”

.

Richie can’t help but follow Eddie’s movement and admire his smile. It is sweet and kind, almost a little forced. He can tell Eddie rarely smiles, but the action lights up his face beautifully. “Damn it! Missed opportunity.”

The two of them are so busy not paying attention that they miss the professor end the lecture. Suddenly, students are standing up and packing their supplies. “Oh shit, class is over. Well, I am TA-ing my next one in thirty minutes and I need to grab something to eat before I pass out from malnutrition, but it was awesome meeting you, Eddie. You’ll text me about getting dinner tonight?” He slings his worn blue backpack over his shoulder, waiting for an answer.

.

“Oh, umm, yeah I have your number, so…” Eddie trails off as their conversation gets cut off by the sudden loud murmuring of everyone in the lecture hall talking at once, so he just nods and gives Richie a small wave before starting to pack up his own materials. As he does this, he watches Richie walk away and filter out of the room along with the other students, and it leaves Eddie feeling… inexplicably empty, which takes him by surprise. He hadn’t realized he felt anything other than empty until the moment that feeling, whatever it was, was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> 


	6. First Meetings: Beverly & Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this "meet cute", accidents happen (well, almost).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Monday, 08/27, noon-ish; York Hall parking lot**

Is it normal for classes to drag on like the ones Beverly has experienced today? Each course felt like twenty years  _only_  to discuss the class syllabus. She’s not sure what to blame it on, the professors lacking any enthusiasm early in the morning or her stomach mildly grumbling throughout each class, caused by the fact she skipped out on breakfast this morning. It isn’t  _her_  fault styling her hair takes so long.

Now she’s just glad to grab lunch with her roommate and chat about the first day of school, gossiping over news that has already spread around during the weekend. Bev makes her way down to the bike racks where she planted her bicycle. After taking off the lock and putting it away in her backpack, she walks it down to the nearby exit of the parking lot to try and find her way out. She hops onto the seat but soon realizes she has no idea where she is supposed to meet Patty for lunch. The two briefly mentioned their plans, but she doesn’t recall ever reaching a conclusion over the location. The redhead decides to quickly text her roommate, hoping she isn’t still in class so that Beverly can stop looking lost.

.

It’s only the first day, and Ben thinks it’ll be a good idea to get something nice to eat during lunch break, since he didn’t have time to cook beforehand and he has an hour to spare anyway. After his second class, he goes back to his dorm to leave his books and walk back out towards the parking lot, where his dear old car is waiting.

He gets inside the car and as he starts the engine he looks in his rear-view mirror, careful not to harm anyone. To his left, he notices there is a girl standing still on her bike, supporting herself with one foot on the ground and her eyes focusing on her phone. Ben waits a while, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t even take her eyes off her screen, so his attempts of getting her attention by waving his hands in the air and trying to call her are in vain.

“Hey!– Are you– Hey?” he tries once more, but gives up in the middle. So, since she apparently isn’t planning on moving, he begins to carefully, slowly, go in reverse.

.

A couple of minutes pass and still no response from Patty, but Beverly isn’t in any rush to go to lunch. She figures she’s bound to get a text any minute now, so she simply waits a little while longer. Then she realizes that if there is even the slightest bit of time left until she’ll be eating, it’s worth going back to her dorm real quick to grab a sweater. The air conditioner in classes was on full blast all day, leaving rooms freezing as opposed to the weather outside, which is scorching hot and what Bev dressed accordingly to that morning.

But the second she’s about to leave on her bike, a nearby car she didn’t notice is about to leave comes in her direction. The initial shock is terrifying, and Beverly is seriously convinced the car is trying to hit her due to how long it was in a dormant state before. The car doesn’t leave her frozen, though. Instead she swerves off to the side and falls, landing her on the ground alongside her bike.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” she screams at the red vehicle. “Are you fucking _crazy?!_ ”

.

“Holy shit!” Ben slams on the brakes instantly, and sees through his mirror that the girl had fallen to the ground. He stops and gets out of the car without even bothering to close the door, rushing in her direction to help her get on her feet again. But as soon as he sees her, he freezes in place with his hand extended to her.

.

At the sight of the guy who almost ran her over, there is a slight heart flutter. Bev’s eyes examine the dude and can only come to one conclusion: he’s a cowboy. He’s ruggedly handsome for sure, but maybe he would be cuter if he could actually pay attention to the road.

A small scowl falls upon her face as Beverly flicks his hand away. She could help  _herself_  up, so that’s what she does. She takes one look at the side of the arm she fell on and can already see various tiny scrapes. “Maybe next time actually look at your rearview, asshole,” she cautions as she pulls her bike off the ground, making sure everything is intact.

.

Ben opens his mouth and closes it again. He blinks. Since she won’t let him help her, he just leaves his arms hanging by his sides, and continues looking at her. His heart starts beating so fast he thinks it’s going to explode, and suddenly he feels his face burning like it’d never done before. After a few seconds he finally manages to speak.

“I– did.” He clears his throat, looking at her in the eyes, his voice sounding soft and shy. “I did look, and you weren’t moving… Are you okay?”

.

Just as he looks into her eyes, Bev almost feels forced to look into his. They seem familiar, but then again, they are just eyes… they probably look like some famous actor’s eyes, not that she cares enough to distinguish them. She brushes off whatever dirt is left on her. “Clearly you  _didn’t_ look first.” She checks her phone to see if Patty had replied, still nothing. “And no, I’m fucking  _dead_. What does it look like to you? What are you staring at??”

.

He blinks again, and when she mentions his staring he shakes his head quickly and looks somewhere else. Anywhere else. He speaks softly again, "I made you signs, I even spoke to you, but you didn’t notice. You were lost in  _that._ ” Ben points at her phone. “Well, anyway, I’m sorry I frightened you.”

Her voice, her voice… her voice sounds like he’d heard it before. His eyes go back to hers.

.

Maybe Bev’s words were harsh and they certainly came across so, but she has a valid reason to be this upset. She’s still in fright over what just transpired; things could’ve ended up worse, had someone made a wrong move.

She puts her phone into her backpack. “Oh okay, so it’s all  _my_  fault? Mhm, sure.” Beverly’s fingers run through her red locks, starting to notice that the longer she stays the more she can feel a headache coming on. She isn’t even sure why she’s still around; she should’ve just flicked him off and left, yet some force wants her to stay, even if only for a little while.

Beverly chooses to ignore this force.

“Whatever, just…” Clearly annoyed, she gets back on her bicycle. “Look more carefully next time.”

.

Ben curses himself in his mind. “No– No, sorry. I mean, it was an accident. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to run you over. You’re great, why would I? …No. What?” A nervous laugh escapes his mouth. His heart is still beating fast, and he feels his head spinning. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say.

On the one hand, he doesn’t think it was entirely  _his_  fault either, just a mix of dumb mistakes from both parts, but on the other hand… he feels she is an angel sent from heaven. A really angry one. He’s so busy losing himself in her that he doesn’t notice when she gets back on her bike. His eyes open wide and, without even thinking, he reaches for her arm. “Wait!” But he stops himself before he touches her.

.

Beverly is about to cycle away, ready to leave and rant about this to Patty, but then he stalls her. “ _What?_  What do you want?”

.

Ben doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t think he’d get this far. All he wants is for her to stay a little longer, to make sure this is not a dream. After a few seconds he clears his throat, trying to buy time to come up with something.

“Can I– know your name?” he improvises, with a small, kind of shaky voice that he tries to hide.

.

After all that, he  _still_  wants to try and pick her up?  _‘The nerve of some guys,’_ Beverly thinks. She can already sense some cliche line coming out of his mouth, so she decides to stop him now before he could embarrass himself. “ _Seriously??_ ”

With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she rides away, hoping she’d never see him again.

.

Ben stands in his place, stunned, and follows her with his eyes until she is out of sight, feeling like both an idiot and a blessed man. That girl -  _angry mystery girl_  - made something strange, something  _magical_ grow in the center of his heart, but there are so many different emotions inside of  him that he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is.

All he knows is that he is already lost in the red hair and gray-green eyes of a complete stranger, and there is nothing Ben Hanscom can do against that.

He needs a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Ben - [ao3: hanscomarsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanscomarsh); [tumblr: hanscomarsh](https://hanscomarsh.tumblr.com)  
> Beverly - [ao3: bcnvcrly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcnvcrly); [tumblr: bcnvcrly](https://bcnvcrly.tumblr.com)  
> 


	7. First Meetings: Eddie & Bill (plus Richie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie joins Bill and Richie on a Chinese food outing, some chucks are had, things take a turn for the strange, Derry is brought up, and then, finally, Reddie has a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Monday, 08/27, evening; York Hall/Jade Orient**

The audition for  _‘Into the Woods’_  took longer than Richie expected. Eddie must be waiting for him to be ready for dinner, so he is frantically texting Bill, trying to get him to answer. 

 **[RT]:**  CODE: GAY PANIC  
**[RT]:**  DUDE YOU NEED TO FUCKING ANSWER ME  
**[RT]:**  Agdhididb  
**[RT]:**  We HAVE to go out to dinner tonight because I invited a cute guy from my class to come with us to get Chinese or maybe I said Japanese I CAN’T REMEMBER   
**[RT]:**  He’s kinda hesitant to be friends but when I want a friend I make it HAPPEN  
**[RT]:**  BIG BILL  
**[RT]:**  He has the biggest fucking brown eyes that literally stopped me in my tracks   
**[RT]:**  I shit you not I couldn’t stop staring  
**[RT]:**  BILLIAM  
**[RT]:**  It was embarrassing and I never get embarrassed   
**[RT]:**  BILLY   
**[RT]:**  PLEASE   
**[RT]:**  ANSWER ME ASSHOLE  
  
Richie practically sprints to his dorm room. He flings the door open, the frame rattling dangerously. “BILL! WHY DON’T YOU CHECK TEXTS!?” he bellows.

.

Once Bill had finished with class for the day, he’d decided to retire back to his dorm for the night to play some video games. In fact, he’s been so busy playing video games that he hasn’t been paying any attention to his phone, which has been buzzing nonstop.

So when Richie bursts into the room, Bill jumps at the sudden intrusion, luckily not falling off of the top bunk. Once he has calmed down from his heart attack he looks over at Richie, a look of confusion on his face. “First of all, what the fuck?? You scared me so much, you could have fucking killed me.” He takes a few deep breaths, calming himself down. “Secondly, I was playing  _Cooking Mama 2: Dinner With Friends™️_  and didn’t hear my phone go off.” He holds the DS up for Richie to see. “And thanks to your grand entrance, I fucked up my corn soup recipe.”

.

“You can slice and dice with that bandanna wearing lady LATER!” Richie goes searching for a different shirt to throw on. He finds his black Red Hot Chili Peppers one, rips off his current shirt, then tosses that on.

“We’re going downtown for dinner and I need you to drive because my car is a mess.” He rushes frantically around the room trying to find some jeans.

.

“Why didn’t you clean it out really fast instead of bugging me?” It’s not like it matters, Bill has already closed his DS and is putting on pants while he talks. “What are we eating? It better be something good because I’m starving.”

.

“Auditions ran late and I’ve been going non-stop today. Also, I can’t remember whether I told him we were getting Chinese or Japanese. I hope I said Chinese because that’s what I’m craving.”

Richie finds his jeans and starts to struggle putting them on over his shoes. “Fuck!” He tips over onto the ground, still putting on the pants like a maniac.

.

“Dude, calm down.” Bill can’t help but laugh when Richie falls over, sitting down on one of the desk chairs to watch him scramble around the room. “I hope you said Chinese too, because  _Cooking Mama_  has worn me out on the Japanese recipes. Papa needs an egg roll.”

It suddenly dawns on Bill that Richie mentioned a third party. “Wait…  _him??_ Who’s him? I’m driving someone else? Richie I swear, if I get kicked out of the room tonight because you’re getting your dick wet, I’m going to screech.”

.

Richie gets his pants on then picks up his phone to text Eddie.

 **[RT]:**  Just got back to the dorm  
**[RT]:**  auditions took a lifetime it was bullshit  
**[RT]:**  See ya outside York Hall in 5! 

While he sends the messages he says to Bill, “I have a policy of being the one who is taken home, not the one taking someone home. So I never fuck in my own bed, no worries there. Also, if you checked your TEXTS you wouldn’t be twenty steps behind me.”

.

“I was playing COOKING MAMA!” Bill can’t help but roll his eyes at Richie. Doesn’t he know he’s on a quest to get everything 100% in the game? “Why don’t you just tell me who this guy is? I want to make sure he’s worthy enough to take a ride in Papa Bill’s car.”

.

“ _WORTHY TO-_ ” Richie shakes his head in disbelief. How can Bill not understand the magnitude of the situation? “Bill he is the sassiest, cutest guy I’ve ever met. We talked our whole first class of the day. He was wary of me at first, but he’ll come to love me like everyone does.”   
  
Richie pulls on Bill’s arm and they head out the door while Richie talks more about Eddie. “He’s got this incredible face and these big brown eyes that made me go catatonic in class. I literally could not move, I was struck dumb. He’s short and hot tempered, which is honestly a huge turn on because strong people are everything I want to fucking  _be_. And I don’t know, there is just something really important about him. We  _HAVE_ to be friends.” Richie fiddles with one of the bands around his wrist trying to calm himself. He pulls on the band hard, letting it snap his skin to get his focus in check. He does this a couple times, the anxious energy still flowing through him. He has no idea why he is so nervous.

.

“I wasn’t interested in hearing your turn-ons, but thanks.” Bill stands there, fiddling with his keys, while they wait for this mystery guy to arrive. Hearing about him makes Bill think about the guy he met earlier. He was cute, but Bill is definitely not ready for a relationship. Still, he can’t help but think about how he should have gotten that guys name anyways. “Is he almost here?”

.

As if on cue, Eddie walks out of York Hall’s front entrance to meet up with the two of them. He’s wearing the same outfit he was that morning, because unlike Richie he’s not currently in a gay panic, for once. If anything, he’s just unsure about meeting yet another new person. He spots Richie standing outside with a tall, auburn haired guy and takes a deep breath before walking over to them. He waves when he gets their attention, and smiles nervously, looking from one boy to the other. “Hey, sorry, have you been waiting long?”

.

Richie is bouncing on the balls of his feet, nervous energy doubling when he sees Eddie and tripling when he speaks. “I’ve been waiting for you my whole life, what’s a few more minutes?" 

Richie gestures to Bill. "This is my roommate, Big Bill. Billy, this is Eddie.”

.

Eddie’s face flushes pink and he just stares at Richie, wide-eyed and speechless. There’s a part of him - one he tries very hard to bury - that feels like the wind just got knocked out of him, but his more logical side remains skeptical of Richie’s motives. _‘Does he honestly expect me to believe that all of his lines aren’t rehearsed??’_  He blinks a couple of times before his voice comes back to him. “Oh, wow… did you spend all day thinking of that one?” He laughs awkwardly, though his discomfort is, admittedly, not entirely bad.  
  
Then he turns to ‘Big Bill’, smile faltering when their eyes meet. He feels… some kind of heartache that he can’t quite place, and it sends chills down his spine. “Hi…” His brows knit together as he studies Bill’s face, and he tells himself that this guy must just remind him of someone else. There are so many blank spots in his memory, in recent years and from childhood, that it isn’t out of the question.  _Yeah, that must be it._  “Uh, I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”

.

“Hi Eddie, it’s great meeting you.” Bill smiles down at the guy and can’t help but feel that he’s met him before; he already feels like he wants to protect him and be there for him. “Feel free to… umm…” He loses his train of thought, and switches to a new topic. “Please tell me that Richie said Chinese,  _Cooking Mama_  has ruined Japanese food for me.”

.

“What the fuck is  _'Cooking Mama’_?” Eddie asks before he can help himself. If it wasn’t totally rude to do so, he’d take out his phone right now to look it up. But, he can always do that in the car. “Uh, I mean, Chinese, sure.”

.

“Great, let’s get going. I’m so hungry, I haven’t had anything to eat today!” They all walk over and get in Bill’s car, which is kind of old, but it’ll get them to the Chinese place. “Umm,  _Cooking Mama_  is a cooking game, it’s kinda stupid but I’m trying to get 100% on it.”

.

Richie likes Bill’s car for its character. He sits in the passenger seat but turns his body so he can see Eddie and talk directly to Bill. “It’s good to keep your goals big.” He pats Bill’s shoulder as they pull out of the parking lot. “The disappointment from not meeting them keeps your ego in check.” Richie pulls up his phone to look up nearby Chinese restaurants, then clicks a random place and lets the GPS tell them where to go.

.

As they drive, Eddie is mostly focused on Bill, but the entire scenario feels uncomfortably…  _comfortable._  It shouldn’t feel this natural to be in a car with two basic strangers, but it does, and he doesn’t feel the same level of anxiety he normally would in this situation. It feels right that Bill is the one driving. Even the way the two of them interact so easily feels right, and Eddie thinks he’s just lucky to be a part of it.   
  
“I think you can get 100%, Bill,” he suddenly pipes up, in a way that sounds like he’s saying _‘I think you can do anything, Bill’._  Embarrassed by his own childish tone, Eddie leans back in his seat and looks out the window to hide the pink in his cheeks.

.

“Thanks, Eddie.” That really made Bill smile. Something about Eddie just feels comfortable, like he could be his little brother. He can see that Eddie looks embarrassed in the rear-view mirror, so Bill makes sure to smile back at him so he feels better.

.

“The place is close to campus, turn left here, Bill.” Richie glances at the GPS then goes to plug in his phone to play some music. “So Eddie, how was the rest of your day? Did you kick ass and take names?” Richie scrolls through his extensive music library and lands on  _Don’t Stop Believin’_. He chuckles to himself and presses play.

.

“Huh?” Eddie snaps out of his thoughts and looks at Richie as the song starts to play. “Oh, uh, not really? I had a couple of other classes after ours… ‘Religions of the World’ and ‘Biomedical Ethics’. I’m way more excited about both of them than the business class. But then again, I didn’t have anyone  _distracting me_ from the lecture the whole time…” He props his elbow up on the car door, sticking his hand out of the window a little to feel the breeze, and rolls his eyes at Richie’s choice in music. “… Do you know anything  _besides_  Journey?”

.

Richie smirks at Eddie’s eye roll. Teasing is not usually his tactic for winning people over; he typically sticks to flirting and jokes, but this somehow feels natural. “Nope, from now on I only know Journey.”

They continue driving for about ten minutes until Bill turns into the restaurant parking lot. They get out of the car and Richie looks up at the sign which reads  _‘Jade Orient’._

.

 _Damn_ , Bill sure is hungry. He looks up at the sign and then leads the other two into the restaurant so they can get started on some nom-noms.

.

When they sit down in the booth they’re brought to, Eddie is immediately trapped when Richie slides into the seat right next to him, rather than sitting next to his roommate. He can’t say he’s surprised, really, but he gets flustered all the same.

.

A waitress comes by, and Bill gets their orders placed quickly, then starts to talk. “So Eddie, what’s your major?”

.

Eddie listens to Bill, but can only  _really_  focus on the lack of space between he and Richie. He keeps his hands on top of the table and nervously toys with the cloth napkin in front of him. “Um, business. Business management,” he says dully. “It’s not very exciting. What about you? I bet you’re doing something cool.”

.

“Business management can be cool, Eddie; life is what you make it.” Bill notices that Eddie is nervous and just keeps going with the conversation, trying to keep things interesting. “I’m just an English major with a minor in Studio Art. Nothing too cool going on here.”

.

“Hmmm.” Eddie sort of zones out thinking about Bill’s comment, inexplicably believing him despite nearly twenty years of life experience informing him that life is what  _OTHER_  people make of it. Choices are limited and rare, especially when one’s mother is Sonia Kaspbrak. But he’s not about to say such a thing out loud to these people, as it would surely kill the mood. So he plasters on a smile, still thinking about his mother in the back of his mind, and looks at Bill again. “Those both sound really cool, honestly. Are you an artist? Or do you write?”

.

“I hope you are an artist Bill. Then we can live in a cardboard box together on the side of the highway like the poor art graduates we are bound to be.” Richie feels a little jittery; he keeps shifting in the booth trying to get comfortable. He ends up subconsciously putting his arm on the back of the booth, behind Eddie, which immediately settles him.

.

Bill rolls his eyes at Richie’s statement, as he’s  _not_ planning on living in a box for the rest of his life. “ _You_  can do that, but if it comes down to it I would sooner move back in with my mother than live in a box with you like Spongebob and Patrick.”

He turns his attention back to Eddie. “I wouldn’t really call myself an artist, I just have an interest in it.” He gets a little embarrassed talking about his goals with someone who’s practically a stranger, but he still feels that underlying feeling of comfort around him. “I can write, though. I want to be an author someday.”

.

Eddie tenses up a little when Richie moves his arm, face heating up just a bit from his proximity. He doesn’t know why he keeps reacting this way! He told himself earlier that he’s NOT going to be charmed by Richie, and he  _intends_  on sticking by that decision. Yet here he is, breath catching in his throat due to one simple movement.

He tries to stay focused on Bill, which isn’t that difficult - Bill seems really cool. At least, cooler than Eddie could ever be. “I couldn’t watch Spongebob when I was little, so I’ll take your word on that reference… but I’m  _sure_  you won’t end up in a box. I get the feeling you’ll be successful someday, definitely.”

.

Richie feels a tightening in his chest at Eddie believing in Bill so unconditionally. It makes him wish someone thought that highly of  _him_. It’s exhausting having to be your own biggest fan and achieve your ambitions alone, but with two parents who cannot give less of a shit about what he does with his life, he suspects he will continue life without that kind of praise. “So Eddie, are you taking any minors with your major? I’m a Business and Theatre major with three minors in Music, Psychology, and Women’s and Gender Studies. I anticipate this semester being hell.”

.

Eddie looks over at Richie, eyebrows raised. He remembers him saying something about 'one of’ his minors, but he didn’t anticipate it being such a mouthful. “Wow, that’s a lot. How do you have time for all of that? I’m just trying to catch up on credits here, I can’t even  _think_  about minors.”

.

“I went into college with basically all AP credits, so I don’t have to take many gen ed classes. I also take classes during the summers because I get bored easily if I’m not doing things like working or learning.”   
  
Richie taps the side of his head. “My brain, much like my mouth, never shuts up so it kinda helps me focus. Kinda.” He shrugs. The waitress brings their drinks and he starts downing his soda.

.

Eddie smiles, impressed. If only  _he_  had that kind of ambition, things might be completely different for him. “That’s really cool, Richie.” He scoots forward in his seat and picks up the little cup of green tea the waitress brought for him. “But… I  _seem_  to recall you telling me you never think. So which is it? Get your story straight.”

.

Richie grins and looks directly at him. “Nothing straight about me, Eddie.”

.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

.

“Does that mean your penis is crooked?” Bill asks.

.

Richie chokes on his soda.

.

Eddie nearly spills his tea as he starts laughing uncontrollably at Bill’s comment. He puts the cup down and takes a minute to control himself, wiping at his eyes. “Wow, good one, Billy!” Then he turns to Richie expectantly. “ _Well?_ ”

.

Richie’s face heats up a little at the joke. Usually, he would admit that was a funny and clever one, but right now he just wants to sink into the booth. “I promise all outward body parts are functional to society’s standards. But I’ll crook  _your_  penis if you don’t shut the fuck up,  _Billy_.”

He kicks Bill under the table for good measure.

.

Eddie keeps looking at him. “That still doesn’t answer the question. I’m sure crooked dicks are  _functional_.”

.

“You interested in finding out? I’ll pull it out right here gentlemen,” Richie says.

.

“Yes please.” Bill makes a face that makes him look like he’s nutting and gives Richie the ‘okay sign’ with his hand.

.

“ _God, no_ , people are trying to eat here.  _Children_  are-” Eddie starts, then looks at Bill in surprise. “ _What?!_ ” Suddenly he’s really not sure what he got himself into tonight. The last thing he needs is to see someone whip their dick out in front of him unprovoked, and he shudders at the thought. “Uh, if you’re going to start traumatizing people, I’m gonna call an Uber.”

.

Bill laughs at Eddie’s reactions and shakes his head slightly. “Don’t worry, Eddie, we’re just joking around. Richie won’t get his dick out in public.  _Right,_  Richie?”

.

Richie laughs. “I will refrain just for you two.” Just then, the waitress brings their food.

.

“Well,  _good_.” Eddie clears his throat and thanks the waitress before she walks away. Bill really ordered quite a variety - egg rolls, lo mein, crab rangoon, fried rice - but Eddie’s appetite isn’t what it was a couple of minutes ago, and he isn’t sure why. Still, he gives Bill a weak smile before putting a couple of things on his plate. “So… your room is in York too? It isn’t the nicest dorm ever… you’d think they’d set aside a more welcoming building for transfer students.”

.

“Nah, we’re like leftover students.” Richie immediately reaches across Eddie, plucks one of the crab rangoons off the serving plate, and takes a bite. “Ow! Fuck.” It’s scalding hot. He takes a drink of soda to wash down the pain. “So the food is hot as fuck if you were curious.” He blows on the other end of the rangoon before tossing it into his mouth, this time a better temperature.

.

Eddie laughs. “Thanks for the warning.” He picks up his tea again and takes a sip to hide his smile as he watches Bill and Richie fill their plates. “So Bill, where are you from?”

.

“Portland,” Bill replies. “I’ve been there for as long as I can remember.”

.

“Holy shit! Are you serious?!” Richie stares at him in shock. “Dude! So have I!”

.

“Did you guys like, go to school together there?” Eddie asks, confused.

.

“Oh no, we just met this year,” Bill says. “I went to a private school there for their speech therapy program.”

.

“Speech therapy?” Eddie asks.

.

“Yeah, I used to stutter pretty bad when I was younger.”

.

“I used to have a friend who had a stutter.” Richie is surprised by this realization. He forgets who the person was, though - some kid from middle school. “Anyway, I went to Portland High School for 11th and 12th grade.”

.

Eddie narrows his eyes at Bill, as if he’s trying to see him more clearly, and then, after a moment, looks down at his plate. He has a dull headache, all of a sudden, and feels even  _less_  hungry now. “I…” He pauses, gripping hard onto the napkin in his lap. He has a thought, but he loses it immediately, so he laughs nervously when he looks back up at the other two. “I think Portland is nice. I was only there for a couple of months this summer, but it’s… fun, I guess.”

.

“Yeah, Portland’s nice,” Bill agrees. “I moved to Illinois for my first two years of college, but I just recently moved back to Maine to be closer to my mom.”

.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you.” Eddie laughs again, a little less nervously this time. “I came back here to get _away_  from my mom.”

.

“I’ve been trying to get out of my house for _years_  and was finally successful this year.” Richie notices Eddie has not filled his plate. “Are you not hungry?” he asks between bites of his own food.

.

Bill’s curiosity is peaked when Eddie gives his reasoning for coming here, “Why are you trying to get away from her?”

.

“Oh, you know how she is,” Eddie says immediately, and then freezes, confused. “Wait, no you don’t. Sorry.” He laughs uncomfortably, his discomfort compounded by the fact that Richie asked about his appetite. “Sorry,” he repeats, pointedly picking up an egg roll to ease Richie’s concern  _(why does he care, anyway?)_.

“I guess I came here so I could be my own person more, but now I just feel weird being so close to my hometown. Just…  _vibes_ , I guess. Everything and everyone has been weird.” He thinks of his roommate in particular, but Bill and Richie are weird too, in their own way. “But Maine is just like that, I think.”

.

“Maine is lame,” Richie agrees. “Where’s your hometown at?”

.

Bill picks up on how uncomfortable Eddie is, and is going to stop pressing him, but something stops him. A distant memory of someone pushy, whom Bill strongly dislikes. “Is your mom a bitch?” _Bad wording._  “I m-mean… is she super pushy?” He can’t stop wondering why his stutter seems to keep coming out recently.

.

Eddie looks from Richie to Bill, wanting to just disappear into the booth. He  _expected_  to have to deal with Richie’s flirting tonight, which he wouldn’t have exactly hated, but he was definitely  _not_ prepared for whatever this is. “Uhh, yeah, pushy,” he says quietly, hesitant to call her a bitch even while she’s hundreds of miles away. “She’s just always worrying about me. It’s fine, really, I just need to be an adult now, is all. But uh…”

He looks back to Richie now. “Well, actually  _this_  is my hometown.” He closes his eyes briefly, visualizing a mental map of Derry and where they are in relation to downtown. He smiles a bit as he opens his eyes again, surprised by how much he remembers about it, despite not having thought of it for three years. The geographical layout, if nothing else, is still clear as day. “We’re right on the edge of town by the mall, but I’m pretty sure we’re inside the border of Derry. I lived maybe twelve minutes southwest of here, growing up.”

.

Richie’s throat seems to close up.  _Derry_. A powerful anxiousness courses through him. He retracts his arm, which has been behind Eddie this whole time and turns in his seat to fully face him. “Derry,” he whispers like it is dangerous to even speak the word. How could he forget? The place he was so ecstatic to leave as a kid, and now he’s back. “I… grew up here too.”

Derry is the worst town in the world as far as Richie is concerned, but he can’t remember  _why_  it’s the worst. He just knows it is. He also cannot place the loneliness that is creeping into him. When he moved away from Derry, he left someone behind. Someone really important. Except he doesn’t know who. 

.

The familiarity comes to Bill at full force. He can’t believe he forgot about such an important part of his life. He was  _raised_  in this town, and he somehow completely forgot about it. “Yeah, so did I?” It comes out as a question because he is super confused at this revelation, and because Richie and Eddie used to live here, too.

.

“Oh, that’s weird.” Eddie lets out yet another nervous laugh. It’s  _more_  than weird. It’s insanely improbable. “Small world, isn’t it?” He thinks of the sense of familiarity he felt around both of them at different moments, but he’s sure he would remember them if he really knew them. Although Richie’s full name  _did_  sound familiar that morning…

“Maybe we went to school together for a little while and didn’t even know it. It’s a big town, after all.” Eddie shrugs off the feeling that there might be more to it than that, preferring to stick with the most logical explanation.

.

“It’s a hellhole,” Richie mutters, looking between Eddie and Bill. Suddenly, his appetite is gone. He still forces himself to take a couple more bites. “But hey!” He plasters on a forced smile. “I guess we will suffer here together.” Richie bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s jovially.

.

Eddie jolts at the sudden contact and rubs his shoulder where Richie bumped against it. “Yeah… um, how about we talk about something else?” He looks at Bill hopefully, as though he’s the one in control here and would therefore have all the answers.

.

Bill looks up from his plate, lo mein noodles hanging out of his mouth. He swallows them quickly and looks between Richie and Eddie, realizing he should probably talk now. “Umm… The weather today was nice.”

.

Richie barely contains the nervous, almost hysterical laugh that wants to break the surface. “Bill enjoys that  _Derry-air_.”

.

Eddie snorts, which turns into a gale of laughter. His laugh is half one of genuine amusement and half nervous relief that Richie broke them out of that uncomfortable tension. He feels like he’s a twelve year old, laughing over something so crude, but it feels good - he’s unable to remember the last time he laughed so openly, but this is the second time in one night!

“Jesus,” he says after he calms down. “That was great. Dumb, but great.”

.

Bill can’t help but chuckle at that joke, it was stupid but he’s basically still twelve. “I guess I walked right into that one.”

.

Watching Eddie let go and laugh brings a calmness over Richie that he rarely ever experiences. He sits back in his seat, feeling happy. “Shall I get the check? I’m stuffed.”

When the waitress comes, she gives them boxes for their leftovers, and Richie puts down cash to pay for the whole thing. “You two can pay me back whenever.”

.

“No, no -” Eddie looks at Richie in surprise. “Don’t do that, I have money. Just split it three ways.”

.

“It’s fine, Eddie. It’s easier.” Richie closes the checkbook and hands it to the waitress before either of the boys can argue. “Alright, let’s go!” They leave the restaurant and head to the car.

Richie takes a deep breath before asking, “Bill and I are probably going to watch a movie tonight. Do you want to join us?” He flashes Bill a look that says  _'don’t fuck this up for me’._

.

“Oh… um. I don’t know…” Eddie shifts uncomfortably and looks at the two of them. He wishes Richie had waited until they were back at the dorm to ask this, so he wouldn’t feel so pressured to say yes just to avoid an uncomfortable car ride. But maybe that’s exactly  _why_  he asked now instead of later. Because really, in spite of any weird coincidences, Eddie doesn’t  _really_  know either of them, and regardless of sexuality, men always  _seem_  to only want to 'talk’ or 'watch a movie’ or 'just chill’… until the opportunity for something else comes up.

No, it’s better to be safe than sorry, and besides, it’s only the first day of school - he has two entirely new courses to attend the next day, and he can’t stay up all night and risk making a bad first impression by sleeping in. “I have a pretty early class tomorrow so I’d better not… maybe another time.”  _‘Shit, why did I say that??’_

.

“Alright, well, I’m holding you to that.” Richie gives him a tight smile, trying not to take the rejection personally.

.

“Cool, we’ll watch it anyways, so if you change your mind you can always join us.” Bill gets it, they’re practically strangers still; he wouldn’t voluntarily go to a stranger’s dorm with the promise of watching movies either. He’s used that move many times (successfully) and assumes Eddie expects the same from Richie, so Bill decides he obviously better make a joke about it. “I like you already, ‘cause I definitely didn’t want to get sexiled on a weekday.”

.

Richie’s cheeks flush red and he shakes his head, because he really has no intention of pushing Eddie when he’s clearly not interested. “What Bill  _means_  is that  _he_  is going to sexile  _me_  to be with his right hand.”

He throws his arm around Bill’s neck and whispers, “Sleep with one eye open tonight.”

.

Eddie lets out a small, nervous laugh and just kind of moves closer to the car door, eager to get back to the safety of his dorm room and escape this awkward moment. "Well, it’s getting a little late, so…”

.

“Right, let’s go.” Bill totally just made things tenser, since his joke didn’t go over very well. He sneaks some glances at Eddie in the rear view mirror once they’re in the car and on their way back to campus. He knows his joke made him more uncomfortable and he has a strong urge to apologize and try to bring him comfort, so he does just that. “Hey, I was just joking about the whole sexiling thing. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

.

Eddie smiles at Bill through the mirror. “Oh it’s alright, really. And I’m sorry for-”  _‘For what, exactly? Assuming you’re a couple of creeps?_ ’ “Well, thanks for letting me know you were joking. Sometimes I can’t tell. And thank you for driving, too. And thank you for dinner, Richie.”

When he says that last part, he feels a little pang of guilt for rejecting the movie offer, so he quickly adds, “I’ll get you coffee or something before class the next couple of weeks to make up for my third of the check.”

.

Richie has been staring out the window internally panicking about the uncomfortable situation he landed himself in. He only tunes back into the conversation when Eddie says thank you for dinner. 

“Black coffee is my jam. Thanks.” He keeps staring forward, this time suppressing his glee.

.

“Really. Just… black?  _That’s_  your jam.” Eddie doesn’t believe for one second anyone could like black coffee THAT much. “It just tastes like bitter nothingness. But, fine.” He has a small suspicion that Richie only chose the cheapest thing on any cafe menu so that it would take Eddie that much longer to pay him back for dinner, but for some reason that thought just makes him smile.

.

“I like it black as my hair,” Richie replies, which is true. Something about the bitterness in coffee gets him to focus a little. He thinks about how getting coffee from Eddie before class is going to be the biggest blessing.

They all keep an easy conversation going on the way back to campus, awkwardness almost forgotten. When they park and walk back to the dorm. Richie pauses before going inside. “I’m going to smoke for a bit, see you upstairs Bill.”

.

“Okay, it was nice to meet you, Eddie.” Bill goes back to the room to play more  _Cooking Mama_.

.

Eddie starts to say goodbye to Bill, but he’s basically already gone. Maybe anyone else might have thought his quick departure somewhat rude, but to Eddie it’s effortlessly cool, like Bill has far more important things to worry about than what Richie or Eddie are doing.

Once he’s gone, Eddie realizes that now he’s alone with Richie, the person who threatened to whip his dick out in a public, family-friendly restaurant. He hovers by the building’s entrance and looks up at Richie. “So… I guess I’ll see you Wednesday morning then, with coffee in hand.”

.

Richie has already started lighting a cigarette. He thinks about just saying a quick goodbye to Eddie but decides to bring up something that’s been bothering him. “I know I’m like 'a lot’ to deal with. Sorry, if it made ya uncomfortable. I blame my parents for never getting me diagnosed with ADD or ADHD, or whatever.” 

He shifts anxiously. He never talks this way, and isn’t sure why he is opening up even this little bit. He hopes he hasn’t made everything worse. He takes a drag of his cigarette, lets it into his lungs for a moment, and blows upward into the sky. “But I just wanted you to know tonight was fun, for me.”

.

Eddie’s heart sinks. Richie’s words hit him more than is really necessary, and he steps forward, away from the door. “Oh, no - no, that’s not - I wasn’t…” He lifts a hand to touch Richie’s arm but catches himself halfway and drops it back to his side. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t you, you’re not too much to deal with… I wasn’t  _'dealing’_ with anything.”

Now he just feels guilty for the few times he actually  _did_ think something along those lines today. He chews his bottom lip for a moment. “It’s my fault, I’m just paranoid, I guess. I made  _myself_  uncomfortable, if anything. I… I mean, I had fun, too. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

.

“Well, that’s reassuring.” Richie wonders why he cares so much about someone he just met today. It almost terrifies him how unexplainable this connection is. He takes a step closer, looking down at Eddie’s big brown eyes, the very eyes that captivated him this morning. He searches them, looking for an answer that he doesn’t even know the question to. Then, before he can think twice about it he gives him a quick hug. “Night, Eddie.”

He tosses his cigarette in the ashtray receptacle by the door and walks inside.

.

While Richie is staring down at him, Eddie feels as though his breath is caught in his throat - and not in the way he’s used to. Blue and intense, it seems like Richie’s eyes are boring into him right down to his core, and he can’t look away. He’d been so busy trying to avoid eye contact, he hadn’t given himself a chance to really notice how nice his eyes are. But just as he starts to relax into the moment, Richie looks away and hugs him. It’s quick, and before Eddie even has a chance to speak, it’s over and Richie is heading inside, the door slowly closing behind him.  
  
Eddie doesn’t move right away, though. He can’t move, because he feels as though he’s just been punched in the gut. Lingering around him now is the scent of cigarettes and something he can’t quite place, something that not only makes the smell of smoke bearable, but actually fills Eddie with a longing that is so painful and deep it scares him. He’s always had a tumultuous relationship with cigarettes - when he’s drunk or otherwise intoxicated, he’s been known to latch onto smokers with dark hair like it’s all he knows how to do, but in the sober light of day he just finds the smell of it depressing… usually. This time is different, entirely so.  
  
It can’t just be Richie, though, it has to be something else - there isn’t a reason for Richie’s scent to make him feel so much, so intensely. It makes him ache for something -  _home_ , he realizes, though his mother has never smoked in her life. As he finally enters the dorm building, he starts to convince himself that the feeling is only in relation to his new proximity to Derry, and nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> Bill - [ao3: hiyo_silver_away](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyo_silver_away); [tumblr: hiyo-silver-away](https://hiyo-silver-away.tumblr.com)  
> 


	8. First Meetings: Mike & Bill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill makes an awkward first impression on Mike. Then, the next day, he makes a second awkward first impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Monday, 08/27, morning; somewhere on campus**

_Shit._

It’s not even that early, yet Bill’s running late. He forgot to set his alarms the night before his first day of classes, and since he barely knows where he’s going, he has been running all over campus trying to find the right building. At one point he rounds a corner, thinking he can continue running, but he slams right into someone.

.

Mike feels like an absolute idiot. Not because he’s lost on his first day, he’d expected that, but because he didn’t think ahead to set his alarm for earlier. Now he has NO idea where his first class is, he’s late as fuck, AND he hasn’t even had  _coffee_  yet, so yeah, this school year’s  starting off on the  _best_  possible note.

He’s walking with his head down, which one should never do on a campus full of barely awake, rushing students, trying to find his way with Google Maps and generally not paying attention to anything around him. That is, until someone slams into him out of nowhere and knocks him on his ass onto the ground. He lies there for a couple seconds, his phone buzzing in his hand and the sun blinding him, before simply saying, “Ow,” in the most deadpan tone he can muster.

.

“I’m so sorry!” Bill can’t  _believe_  he ran into someone on his first day of classes. He can’t believe he ran into someone at all! His clumsiness is really getting him in some tough spots already. “Here, let me help you up.” He reaches out a hand and helps the other guy up; he’s pretty good looking, not that Bill would admit it out loud. “I’m really sorry about that, are you okay?”

.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Mike says as he sits up to grab the stranger’s hand. “I wasn’t looking where I was… going…” As he meets the stranger’s eyes, Mike is left speechless. He usually isn’t one to be distracted by beautiful people, but this guy is…  _oh, wow_. He has the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen on a person, especially with how the sunlight was reflecting in them. But other than his good looks, Mike is also taken aback by a sudden rush of  _something_ ; a familiar, warm, and nostalgic feeling, something  _exciting_ , but it is gone as soon as it came.

Mike realizes he’s still on the ground and holding onto the stranger’s hand. “Uhm.” He shakes his head and stands up, but still holds onto his hand without really noticing. “Sorry. I’m fine. Are you… fine?”

.

“I wasn’t watching either, I was rushing to class and wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” Bill laughs awkwardly, not knowing how to fully talk to this guy. Something about him feels  _right_ , and it’s almost weird how safe he feels around this random guy already. 

“But yeah, I’m f-f-fine.” Holy shit, he can’t believe he just  _stuttered_ , he hasn’t done that in so long. He’s lowkey embarrassed about that, and he’s so focused on the slip up that he hasn’t let go of this mystery boy’s hand.

.

The initial  _magic_  of the moment has already faded for Mike, who is now just standing there holding hands with some random dude that had just knocked him over. He’s still a good looking dude though, even though he’s obviously embarrassed by his little stutter there. 

Mike can’t help but try and  _subtly_  check him out, but then he notices the guy’s shirt, which reads ‘I <3 Gay Porn’ in huge, bold letters. He squints at it, then backs up and snorts out a little laugh, which he hopes sounds good-natured. “I should uhm -” He finally takes his hand back. “- go find my class. Bye.” And as he walks away, before turning his focus back to his phone, he calls out, “Nice shirt, by the way!”

.

Bill looks at the guy while he walks away before looking down at his shirt. He hadn’t even remembered that he put it on that morning, and he’s so annoyed that he made an even  _bigger_  fool of himself that day. He can’t even concentrate on his classes for the rest of the day as he’s just thinking about how stupid he must have looked to that guy, and he didn’t even catch his name.

So much for making a friend besides his roommate. 

 

* * *

**Tuesday, 08/28, morning; on-campus cafe**

Bill’s pretty tired, he didn’t sleep very well the night before and he’s in desperate need of some caffeine. He walks into the cafe, already having his order in mind, and gets in line. It takes him a few moments to survey his surroundings and he realizes that the guy in front of him is the same one he ran into the day before. At first he was going to just leave him alone, but something pulls at him to interact, so before he can stop himself he yells out, “Hey!”

.

Mike has been waiting in line for a while and is lost in his bored daydreams, so the sudden call makes him jump. Turning around to see who it is, he’s startled to find himself face to face with none other than the boy he bumped into just the day before. And he looks just as good as he remembers. “Oh, hey,” he responds, smiling before he can help it. “You’re the gay porn shirt guy. What are the odds?”

.

Bill can’t help how flustered he feels when Mike points out the gay porn shirt he wore yesterday. He tries to mask his embarrassment by laughing, but it just comes out awkwardly.

“Yeah, that’s me, the gay porn guy.” A few people look at him when he says this, and it just makes him even more nervous. Looking back over at this guy seems to bring a sense of calm into Bill’s body, though, getting rid of some of the nerves that were hindering him from normal conversation. “So, umm.” He coughs awkwardly. “It’s a small campus, huh? I seem to run into you quite a bit.”

.

“Yeah, small world, small campus…” Mike can tell he made the guy uncomfortable, so he changes his approach to hopefully lighten the mood. “Although, I gotta say,” he starts, unable to hold back his shit-eating grin. “The first impression was quite…  _impactful_.” He looks at Bill, waiting for him to get the joke.

.

Bill tries to keep a straight face, but he can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up inside him. That was an amazing pun, and Bill is impressed with this guy. “Some may say it started  _with a bang_.” It’s not as good as the other guy’s, but Bill is still proud of it.

.

Mike grins even wider, proud of himself for making the cute guy laugh. _‘Oh, wow. Hot AND enjoys an awful pun.’_

‘Hopefully it’ll  _end_  with a bang too,’ he wants to say, but he figures it’s too bold, too soon. “Psh, I bet you say that to everyone,” he jokes instead, and then it’s their turn to order. They do, then move to the side to wait.

.

 _‘Does this guy think I’m a fuckboy??’_  That’s the only thing running through his head while they wait for their orders. He  _doesn’t_  say that to everyone, because not everyone would get the joke. Bill takes a few breaths to calm himself down, since he’s obviously overthinking the response. “I only say it to the cute ones.”

.

Mike raises an eyebrow at him. Well, okay; that was a cheesy one liner, but Mike’s heard worse and the guy IS cute, so he won’t shut him down just yet. “Wow, are you always this bold or am I special?” he humors in a deadpan tone, but hopes it’s obvious that he’s not trying to be mean. “You  _did_  almost give me a concussion yesterday, you know.”

.

“Sorry about that.” Bill watches as their orders get closer to being ready. He’s a little upset by that, as he wants to keep this flirting going. “I couldn’t help but  _knock you off your feet_.”

The girl at the counter calls out their orders and both of them move forward to grab their coffees.

.

“Pff–” Mike can’t stop himself from laughing at that one. “Okay, you win,” he says as puts his money out on the counter and picks up his drink. “Got any other good ones for me?”

.

“Yeah, I was gonna say something about _sweeping_  you off your feet, but I thought that would be too much.” Bill’s bants are getting too distracting, and as he goes to pull his money out, his change goes spilling all over the floor (even his  _BILLS_  fall out).

“Shit!” He bends down and immediately tries to start picking everything up. “I’m s-s-so sorry.” Damn that stutter for making things even more awkward.

.

Mike shouldn’t, but he laughs a little at the guy’s clumsiness anyway. It’s kinda cute. “Don’t worry.” While Bill’s busy picking up his money, Mike pays for his coffee too. He hands Bill the cup before he can protest. “Don’t sweat it. You’ll just owe me a coffee. So we both win.” He takes his change and winks at Bill, then turns to walk out. Bill waves at him, and he waves back. “See you around!”   
  
After about five minutes of walking and thinking about the cute guy, Mike stops dead in his tracks and slaps his hand on his forehead. “Oh, come on!”

He forgot to ask what his name is AGAIN.

.

Bill is left dumbstruck by that guy. He winked at him AND paid for his drink?? He just stands there, smiling for a bit until he comes to the realization that he doesn’t know his name  _or_  how to reach him for that coffee. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Bill - [ao3: hiyo_silver_away](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyo_silver_away); [tumblr: hiyo-silver-away](https://hiyo-silver-away.tumblr.com)  
> Mike - [ao3: mikehanlonstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikehanlonstan); [tumblr: mikehanlonstan](https://mikehanlonstan.tumblr.com)  
> 


	9. Bill & Richie Are Loud Neighbors (Featuring Mike)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Richie are very loud, it’s very late, and Mike comes across the hall to have words with his new neighbors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Tuesday, 08/28, late night; York Hall Room 222**

Mike and Ben have been suffering for HOURS. It is 1:30AM and their across-the-hall neighbors have been playing really noisy, obnoxious movies as LOUD as possible for the last _three hours_ now, as well as laughing and yelling, and it’s really driving Mike up the wall. He thought he could wait it out, but now he has a horrible headache and just wants to get some sleep. So after contemplating what to do about it with Ben, he walks out of their room and knocks on the neighbors’ door, yelling, “Hey, can you guys keep it down in there please?!”

.

Richie and Bill have been watching Jackie Chan movies all night, loving every second of action and terrible acting by villains. When there is a knock on the door, Richie throws popcorn at Bill to answer it, but gets a pillow slammed against his face in retaliation.

So, Richie clamors out of his bean bag chair and swings the door open. In front of him is a tired looking guy who he recognizes as Mike, the one he met in the bathroom over the weekend. “Hey! It’s contacts guy!”

.

Mike freezes for a split second when he realizes it’s Richie from the bathroom; something tells him that reasoning will be difficult with this guy. “Hah, yeah, it’s me, contacts guy,” he repeats, too tired to humor him. “Hey, look, can you guys turn the volume down a little bit? My roommate and I are trying to sleep.”

.

Richie grins at him, then takes hold of his arm and yanks him into the room. “Hey Big Bill, turn that shit down and meet Mikey!”

.

Bill turns down the movie a couple of notches and turns towards the door to meet this ‘Mikey’, but as soon as he sees him he freezes and honestly feels like passing out. _It’s the guy he knocked over!_ And who bought him his drink!! Bill’s honestly excited to see him again, but then he remembers that Mike came over to complain about how loud they are and he gets hella nervous. After standing there looking at him for an uncomfortable amount of time, Bill finally waves slightly and squeaks out a “Hi.”

.

“Hey, man, look–” Mike starts, a little annoyed, but then he notices the other guy in the room and immediately stops talking. What are the fucking odds - it’s the same guy he’s been bumping into everywhere for two days now. And he finally has a NAME!

“Oh… Bill,” is all he says, and it rolls off his tongue so naturally; the same strange feeling he got when they first bumped into each other comes back full force, and he just stands there, with a grin on his face which he doesn’t even realize is there.

.

Richie glances between the two of them, sensing an odd energy entering the room that he can’t place. “Grab a bean bag chair and join us, Mikey!”

.

Mike’s pulled out of his… weird haze when Richie speaks again, and remembers why he was there in the first place. “Oh, no, I really should…”

Something makes him stop and contemplate it for a split second; he really wants to go back and sleep, but at the same time, hanging out here with these guys sounds alright. “Yeah, uh… okay, just keep the volume where it is.” _‘Looking out for you, Ben.’_  He takes a seat beside Bill and fixes his glasses. “What’re you watching?”

.

Bill tenses at first when Mike sits near him, unsure why he feels so nervous around him. It takes him a few seconds to realize that Mike asked a question. Bill fixes his own glasses (after seeing Mike do it) and immediately forgets what they’re watching.

“Uhhhh…” He stares up at the screen.  “Ummm…” _Oh yeah, action movies - much loud, very watch._ “We’re marathoning Jackie Chan movies.” He feels pretty embarrassed to admit that, not wanting Mike to think their choice in movies is stupid.

.

“Hmm.” Mike’s not a huge fan of plain old action movies, let alone brainless comedy, so it doesn’t take him long to lose focus on the movie and start looking around the room. It’s _shocking_ how they’ve managed to get it _this_ messy, this quickly. They’ve been here for like, what, four days now?

“So uh.. what are your majors?” he asks finally, hoping to get a conversation going at least.

.

Richie’s already answered this question so much this week that he feels like he is going to explode. Therefore, he uses humor to respond instead. “I major in sex and blow jobs, while Bill majors in jacking off.”

.

Bill lets out a soft screech at Richie’s response. Is this payback for making shitty jokes at the dinner with Eddie? Bill doesn’t know, but he isn’t happy about it. “First of all, I could probably get more action than _you_. Secondly, shut up, I hate you.” Bill throws popcorn at Richie to show that he’s joking and doesn’t _actually_ hate him, and then turns back to Mike. “Third, I’m an English major and have a minor in Studio Art. What’s yours?”

.

Richie blows Bill a kiss.

.

Mike laughs at Richie’s crude humor, but he feels a little awkward. At least Bill’s chill, but he can’t pass up the chance to humor him. “Wow, _so_ humble. I’m sure that gets you _a lot_ of action. But uh,” he continues, less cheeky now. “Mine’s history.” He shrugs and takes a handful of popcorn to nibble on. “Not as creative. But I really love it.” He’s feeling a tad awkward and lowkey hopes Ben will come get him soon.

.

Bill can tell that Mike’s tense, and tries his best to lighten the mood. “History is super cool! It’s very important!” Bill realizes he probably seems too excited about history and should dial it down a bit. He sits back in his chair again and pretends he’s _not_ super excited to hear about Mike’s life, but Bill has always been pretty shit at acting. “Yeah, that’s cool.”

.

“Yes, learning about dead men conquering and destroying humanity is _very_ cool,” Richie says not taking his eyes off the movie.

.

Bill rolls his eyes at Richie; can’t he tell he’s trying to make Mike feel comfortable? He subtly throws a pillow at him (this is not actually subtle) to try and get him to shut up.

.

The pillow smacks into Richie’s face and he looks at Bill in confusion. “Uh, so how do you like your classes so far, Mikey?”

.

The whole exchange between Bill and Richie kinda flies over Mike’s head, because he’s busy giving Richie some serious side-eye - those are some fighting words. “Trust me, I know a thing or two about dead _white_ men conquering and destroying humanity. And yeah, my classes are good. How about your blowjobs and sex classes?”

.

“You got me there, Mikey Mike.” Richie grins at him. “And they aren’t teaching me nearly enough about winning over this sassy, cute guy from one of my classes.”

.

“Doesn’t surprise me if you’re always this charming,” Mike says.

.

Richie smiles. “You’ll learn to love my charm quickly.”

.

“I still haven’t learned to love it, so it must take quite a while,” Bill adds.

.

Richie laughs and puts his hand up. They high-five. “Good one, Billy.”

.

“Lucky me,” Mike deadpans, then turns to Bill again. He’s the reason he decided to stay, anyway. “So, you said you’re taking art classes? Do you draw?”

.

“Yeah, I do. I like to draw and paint. I don’t know that I’m very good at it though, it’s just a hobby.” _Was it overkill to say that?_ It’s true though, Bill doesn’t think he’s that good at art, he feels that writing is more his forte.

.

“Of course you’re good at it, you always were.” _Wait, what?_ “I mean, I’m... sure you are…” Mike stops himself, suddenly lost in his own head and a distant memory. Distant and vague. “I’m sorry, I’m probably thinking about someone else… I think I knew someone back in Derry who could draw… maybe someone from school.”

.

Richie’s throat dries up. There it is again; that overwhelming fear and dread when he thinks about Derry. “Don’t tell me you grew up in Derry, too?” He laughs nervously, a huge part of him hoping Mike will say no. It is just becoming too many coincidences.

.

Mike turns to look at Richie, not really startled by the disdain in his voice. “…Yeah, I did. I mean, I lived there until I transferred here.” He looks at Bill, then back at Richie. “You too? My roommate’s from Derry. Weird.”

.

“Yeah, I’m from Derry,” Bill says. How is it that _everyone_ he has talked to is from Derry? The town is close by, but it’s still weird to think he probably went to school with all of these people and barely recognizes their names. “I don’t recall having fond memories of the town.” He can’t hardly remember anything _at all._

.

“How could _anyone_ have fond memories there?” Richie asks automatically wishing they could change the subject. He takes it upon himself to do just that. “Anyway, what’s your favorite genre of music, Mikey?”

.

Mike opens his mouth to defend his hometown, but there’s not a lot to defend. And the point of being here is to make friends, not to argue with some guy he barely knows. “Hm, well…” He settles back in his bean bag. “… Old stuff, I guess? Classic rock; Michael Jackson’s my favorite…Soul, R&B. What about you two?”

.

“I’ll listen to pretty much everything too, but I mostly listen to alt and indie rock.” Bill can’t help but feel a little nervous saying that. A lot of people call him emo for liking that kind of music, but he’s NOT. He adjusts his glasses and smiles at Mike before looking over to Richie, wanting to know his favorite genre as well.

.

“You are so precious, Billy, with your soft _baby rock_ music. Michael Jackson is one of the best singers of all time. I live for oldies like Jerry Lee Lewis and Elvis. But also Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd, The Who, Bowie, Fleetwood Mac, Kiss….I could go on for days, sorry.” Richie turns off the movie since they have stopped watching it and grabs his small bluetooth speaker. He flicks through his phone and puts on _Man in the Mirror._

.

“Indie and alt are just fine,” Mike says, but he’s definitely more impressed by Richie’s music taste; he _seemed_ more like the kind of guy who’d be into bad white rap or EDM. “Hm.” He leans back and closes his eyes, enjoying the music for a while. “That’s a good one, but it’s like you’re trying to put us to sleep at this hour.” He stands up and walks over to where Richie’s sitting, shuffling through his music until _Billie Jean_ is playing. “There we go. You have to appreciate the bass in this song.”

.

“Oh absolutely! The driving bassline and strong backbeat are simple, but it’s the simplicity that captures our attention. The way MJ sings is so emotional, too. He tells a story with every syllable.” Richie starts singing along with the song.

.

Consider Mike extra impressed. “You know your stuff. Do you major in music along with sex and blow jobs?”

.

Richie laughs. “It’s one of my minors. I’ve taken all the requirements so now I am just a TA when I can fit it in.”

.

Bill pipes up, “I was in band at my old university. I played french horn.” _Cool story, Bill. No one cares, nor will either of them find you cool for playing a geeky instrument._

.

“Are you serious?!” Richie says in surprise. “Bill that is like one of the _hardest_ instruments to know how to play well. That’s awesome, dude.”

.

“Yeah, and band seems tough, too. I played trombone in elementary; don’t remember anything now.” Mike adds, with his full attention on Bill now. “But I played football for years, and the band always practiced way longer than us, it was insane. That’s impressive. Why did you quit?”

.

“Oh, umm…” Why did he quit? Bill’s not too sure of the answer. “I think it’s just because I didn’t want to show up to a new school in my third year and intrude on already formed friendships. I would just be that lonely transfer student.”

.

“I get that. Moving from one team to the next sucks. You shouldn’t quit though, it’s all for fun after all,” Mike says.

.

“Yeah, I might join an ensemble next semester and do marching band next year.” Bill ponders this for a bit; he really does love band and it sucks that he didn’t do it this semester. “You said you play football? That’s cool!”

.

"Oh, ha.” Mike shrugs, always humble. “It’s nothing, but thanks.” He smiles a little.

.

Richie smirks. His revenge for Bill’s embarrassing comment with Eddie has already come. “Do you want me to leave so you can fuck, gentlemen?” He winks at both of them.

.

Damn it; Bill really should have kept his mouth shut during the dinner the night before. He just laughs awkwardly and regrets everything as his demeanor shifts to hella nervous. “Sh-Sh-Shut up, Trashmouth.” He’s not sure where _that_ came from, but the nickname seemed to roll of his tongue so easily and it brings forward distant memories of childhood.

.

Richie blinks at Bill as a memory sparks. “I think my Derry friends used to call me that? Actually, everyone at school did.” He glances between Bill and Mike in confusion, but his body warms at the nickname. He used to wear that title with pride. “Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier. For my colorful vocabulary.”

.

“Oh wow, what a coincidence…” Bill laughs awkwardly. “Your vocabulary _is_ quite colorful.”

.

“Sometimes a strong ‘fuck’ is good for the soul,” Richie says.

.

Bill rolls his eyes and tries to hide the laugh that wants to escape him after that joke. His attempts are futile, and he chuckles anyway. “Good one, Richie.”

.

“Thanks Big Bill. So…” Richie snatches up his towel and shower caddy. “I’m going to shower, as it is past 2:00AM. See ya later, Mikey. Keep rockin’!” He slaps Mike on the back and heads out of the room.

.

Mike smiles at Richie as he walks out, then turns to Bill and stands up. “I should get going too. My roommate’s probably waiting for me. Will I, uh… see you around?”

.

“Oh umm… yeah!” Bill just smiles and waves before realizing he should give a proper goodbye. He stands up from his beanbag, aaand then just stands there looking at Mike. “Maybe we should exchange numbers?”

.

Mike laughs at Bill’s awkwardness, but it’s not mean spirited. “Yeah, sure. But I left my phone in my room, so…” He walks over to Bill’s desk, grabs a pen and quickly scribbles down his phone number and name in a random notebook.

“Just text me, okay? Gotta go now. Goodnight!” And with that he smiles, waves, and walks out of their room and back to his own.

.

“Bye.”

Once he’s sure Mike is out of the room, Bill smiles to himself as he looks at the number. He really likes Mike, and talking to him. Something about it feels right. He considers texting him right away, but feels this would be too eager, so he hops in bed instead, hoping he’s not late for his classes again tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> Bill - [ao3: hiyo_silver_away](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyo_silver_away); [tumblr: hiyo-silver-away](https://hiyo-silver-away.tumblr.com)  
> Mike - [ao3: mikehanlonstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikehanlonstan); [tumblr: mikehanlonstan](https://mikehanlonstan.tumblr.com)  
> 


	10. First Meetings: Eddie & Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Ben bump into each other - literally. A drink is spilled, but this time it’s not used to cover up a blood stain. Still… some things never really change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Wednesday, 08/29, morning; Campus Library Cafe**

Eddie’s early morning Human Resources class had been just as uneventful as it was on the first day, at least in terms of the content presented. He ended up yet again spending most of the session talking quietly to Richie after delivering him his coffee, as promised, and… he was surprisingly quite okay with that.

Now, seeing as he has an hour to kill before his next class, he finds himself checking out the little cafe in the front room of the campus library. As he absentmindedly looks over the menu options for coffee, his mind starts to drift to Richie, and Bill, and the discovery that they apparently all grew up in Derry, as well as the - unrelated but still odd - feeling that something is also up with his roommate, Stan. Eddie is, as a result of his daydreaming, almost totally unaware of what is happening around him, so the students who actually know what they want keep cutting in front of him to order their drinks and breakfast sandwiches, though he doesn’t notice and wouldn’t mind even if he did.

.

With half an hour to spare after his first class, Ben’s first instinct is to walk toward the library. He doesn’t even think about the direction he’s going but, when he finally arrives, it just feels like it had been the right thing to do. In a way, all libraries feel a little bit like home. They are places where he can feel safe for some reason, so it makes sense to him that his mind remembered where it was from when he saw the campus map and simply took him there.

 _‘Yeah, that must be it,’_  he thinks to himself, and doesn’t give it much more thought. He stands in place for a moment, with his hands in his pockets, examining the building and its surroundings. Through the big windows he notices there is a cafe at the entrance. His mind is starting to wander, observing all the different people on the inside of the cafe and wondering what kind of lives all of them must be leading, when a sudden breeze takes him by surprise, and makes him come back to reality. He shakes his head and walks inside.

.

Eventually, Eddie comes out of his thoughts long enough to decide to order a mocha frappe. It is, after all, still August, and he’d already had regular coffee earlier that morning, so something cold and less caffeinated would be good for right now. After he picks up the drink, he slips back into dwelling on the strange moments that have happened again and again since being on this campus.  
  
So, of course, he isn’t paying much attention to his surroundings as he heads for the door. And, of course, he  _also_  chooses this moment to check his phone. And… _of course_ … someone enters the cafe just as he’s exiting, and the two of them crash together. Eddie gasps as his cup is crushed from the impact, plastic cover popping off and sending blended coffee and chocolate cascading down his own shirt and that of the man he bumped into.  
  
“Oh! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” He looks up at the guy and is immediately even more humiliated, because he is CUTE. No, not even cute,  _classically handsome_  - old Hollywood handsome, as if he’d be the hero in an old Western, like - like the fucking  _Range Rider!_ Eddie can feel his face burning, and just  _knows_  that there are people staring at him. “I- I didn’t mean to - I didn’t see you-”

.

Ben doesn’t even have time to think about what his order will be. Suddenly, his white shirt is covered in mocha frappe, just like the shirt on the guy he crashed into. “Oh, wow! It’s fine, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you either.”

He notices the guy is smaller than him, as easily as he notices his obvious embarrassment because of the situation. He laughs a little and smiles as he grabs a napkin from a nearby dispenser and gets some of the frappe out of his t-shirt, trying to let him know it was no big deal for himself. Only, it seems to him the guy’s shirt had suffered more damage, but he isn’t sure.

“Really, I’m fine. Sorry about your clothes though.” He pats his shoulder and gestures towards the cafe. “Look, let me get you another one of those, yeah? I’m the one who made you spill your chocolate - is it chocolate? - well, your drink, after all. And I was gonna get one for myself too, so we’re good.”

.

Eddie just blinks up at the guy in disbelief that he could be so  _chill_  about this, while  _he_  simply wants to disappear into the floor. “I… uh, I don’t -” He glances around, still waiting for laughter, but he’s relieved to see that basically everyone has gone back to what they were doing.  _‘Right. This isn’t middle school,’_  he reminds himself.

He looks down at his shirt, then to the other guy’s shirt, then to the half-spilled drink in his hand. “It’s a mocha frappe… but are you sure? I only spilled half.”

.

Ben looks at him for a few seconds, curiously, then shakes his head a little and smiles again. “Yeah, I’m sure, come on,” he says as they both walk toward the cashier. He orders a mocha frappe and a regular coffee. “Ben for the coffee and, uh…” He pauses when the girl asks for their names, and looks at the guy, waiting.

.

Eddie is so busy trying to wipe up his terrible mistake (with a handful of napkins he grabbed as he threw the old frappe’s remains away) that he doesn’t realize anything else is happening until the guy - _Ben_  - gives his name and then stares at Eddie expectantly. “Oh - Eddie. My name’s Eddie.”

.

Ben looks at him again, puzzled. There’s something about this ‘Eddie’ that seems very peculiar to him. He turns around and asks the barista for some more napkins for them both, but no matter how much he tries to wipe it out, the brown stain just won’t go. _'I guess it goes with the jacket,’_  he thinks and throws the used napkins into the trash can.

Of course he doesn’t feel  _happy_  that his shirt is dirty now, but since Eddie looked like he was about to have an asthma attack a while ago  _('does he have asthma?’),_  he stops himself from sighing and decides it’s not necessary to keep commenting about it. They move to make way for new customers, and while they wait for their orders, Ben smiles at him a little. “So, Eddie. Pleased to meet you.” He extends his hand to him.

.

Eddie cautiously shakes Ben’s hand, still half expecting him to start loudly berating him for being so stupid. That feeling is overpowered once they touch, however, by a much stronger sense of security and an inexplicable certainty that Ben would never do such a thing. So he relaxes and allows himself to smile a little as he releases Ben’s hand.

“Likewise… Sorry it had to happen this way, though… I know a thing or two about getting stains out, so I could, like, do your laundry for you? If you want? At least, the shirt…” He cringes visibly, realizing that was such a  _fucking weird_  thing to offer. “Or not. Uh… I mean, thanks for not being mad.”

.

Ben’s eyes widen a little, and it takes him a moment to answer. The guy’s last comment takes him by surprise and makes him raise his eyebrows. “Oh, it’s okay. Really, don’t worry. Also, I don’t have another shirt laying around right now anyway.” He chuckles. “But thank you, Eddie.”

The name seems so  _familiar_  now that he’s looking at him. It’s the perfect name for him, Ben thinks, but there’s no reason behind that thought. “And no, why would I be mad? It was just an accident.” He shrugs. “Accidents happen.”

.

“Oh, well… some people would be mad, I think, if some stranger spilled stuff on them before class - I mean, assuming you have class soon,” Eddie says quickly, without taking a breath, because he’s still quite embarrassed. “What is it that you do? For class? I mean, for your major.”

.

“Hm, yeah. I do have class.” Ben scratches the back of his head. “But, uh… I’ll just zip up my jacket.” He does it as he speaks. “See? I’m good.” The weather isn’t exactly cold, and if he hadn’t had that little accident he’d definitely take the jacket off at some point, but given the circumstances it’s all he can do. “Well, I’m majoring in Architecture. What about you?”

.

Eddie smiles, relaxing a bit more once Ben’s frappe stain is out of sight. They get their drinks and head over to one of the tables by the door, an action that feels natural although neither of them suggested it. “I’m in Business Management right now… but I kind of hate it,” he says, surprised by his honesty. “I just, um, transferred in with more business credits than other subjects, so I figured I had to just stick with it.”

.

Ben sits down across the table and looks at Eddie, concentrating on his words. “Oh… majoring in something you don’t like is pretty difficult, I don’t know if I could manage to do it. You  _‘had’_  to stick with it? I mean, if you hate it you can always change majors, right?” He sips his coffee, and immediately regrets it. He swears the closed jacket plus the coffee are starting to make him sweat.  _‘Should’ve asked for something else.’_

“Wait, you transferred? I’m a transfer student too. From California.” He smiles, amused by this coincidence. Isn’t his roommate also a transfer student? He can’t exactly remember their first conversation, but it feels like that’s what Mike told him.

.

“Oh, neat! Why the hell would you come _here_  from someplace as cool as California?” Eddie asks with a small laugh. “But I guess people could ask me the same thing, since I was in New York before…” He shrugs. “I’m starting to wonder if there is  _anyone_  at this school who’s been here the whole time. Seems like everyone I’ve met so far transferred this year…” He trails off momentarily. “But uh, about my major - I don’t really know what I want to  _do_ , so I might as well stick to this. It’s broad, so that’s good, I guess.”

.

“Well, yeah, it’s broad.” Ben takes another sip. “It’s okay not knowing what to do, I think. You’re young, it’s not like you’re supposed to have everything figured out. You’ll figure out what’s best for you in time, Eddie, you’re strong.” He surprises himself with his own words. He barely even  _knows_  this guy, and yet here he is, talking about life like he hadn’t done… in years? He doesn’t even remember if he  _ever_ talked with anyone like this. He lets out a nervous laugh. “I mean, it seems to me that you are, you know?”

“Anyway… yeah, the California story. Saying the school just wasn’t what I expected is an understatement,” he says, and fixes his eyes on his cup for a second, then looks up at Eddie again. “New York sounds like an exciting place, though. We both ended up here, but it’s not bad, I think.”

He wants to ask why Eddie transferred, but he already seems embarrassed enough, so he switches subjects. “You might be right, about the other transfers. I haven’t talked to anyone except Mike, my roommate, and he’s also a transfer student.” He looks out the window for a second, focused, trying to come up with a reason as to why this happened. “I guess all transfer students have a sixth sense and are subconsciously drawn to other transfer students.” He shrugs, and laughs at his own dumb theory.

.

Eddie looks down at his drink and fiddles with the straw a bit, mulling over Ben’s words in his head, particularly  _‘you’re strong’._  Rarely do people say that about him, and even more rarely does he believe it himself, but something about Ben makes him trust it, in this one instance. It doesn’t seem to matter that they’d only just met. ”Yeah…” He looks up at Ben now, wanting to ask more about ‘the California story’ but refraining. Instead, he focuses on the topic of transfers. “Maybe you’re right, about the sixth sense thing. It makes sense that they’d assign transfers to room together, but everyone I’ve talked to is, too. Like this one guy, Richie, from my morning class - the one I just came from - he’s…”   
  
He trails off, thinking of the feeling he had the other night, and even the morning they first met - that lingering emptiness when Richie walked away from him. “Well, he’s nice, and high energy. And his roommate Bill is another transfer. They both are. I went out to get Chinese with them the other night, and they’re both really funny.” He laughs a little, thinking how strange it is to just be giving this stranger an update about his life as though they have been good friends for years. “

“Sorry, I mean… it was cool. They’re cool.” He considers how forward Richie has been, and decides he doesn’t want to give him  _too_  much credit just yet, in case it gets back to him somehow. “Well, Bill is.”

.

Ben looks at him with a smile on his face as he keeps drinking his (now a little colder) coffee. “I think you’re cool as well,” he says, very certain of his own words. Eddie seems to him like the kind of person who just has your back at all times. A person that, though delicate-looking, is tough and would do anything for others. It reminds him of someone. Maybe. Or probably not.

Suddenly, the headache is there once more. “Man, this thing again.” He shuts his eyes and rubs his temples. “You don’t happen to have an aspirin somewhere, do you?”

.

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Eddie says, immediately pulling his school bag onto his lap and flipping it open. He digs around in the front pocket for a moment, the sound of pill bottles rattling against each other very clear, and then presents Ben with a bottle of aspirin. “Can never be too prepared. And this is probably exactly why I’m  _not_ cool.” He laughs a little and then occupies himself by taking a sip of his drink, embarrassed again.

.

Ben waits for him patiently, noticing the rattling but not paying much attention to it, almost like he’s already used to it. Like that’s how it is supposed to be. He takes the bottle Eddie gives him, gets one aspirin, and returns the bottle. “Well, that just sounds to me like you’re ready for anything.”

He swallows the pill without any water. There is still some coffee left in his cup, but he figures it’d make the pill less effective, and now that it is room temperature he doesn’t even feel like finishing it. He looks at his watch and realizes it’s almost time for his next class. Time went by so quickly that now he doesn’t even have time left to check out the library!

He gives Eddie a smile. “Oh - I’m sorry. Guess it’s time for me to go now, class is waiting. Time flies, huh?”

.

“Oh shit, yeah - sorry! I should run back to my room and change before my next one.” Eddie puts the aspirin bottle away, then stands and slings his bag over his shoulder. He grabs his drink, because unlike Ben he barely touched it while they were talking, and waits for him by the door so they can walk out together. Once they’re outside and ready to part ways, he smiles brightly up at Ben, squinting a little in the morning sunlight.

“Well, it was nice talking to you, Ben. I guess we’ll probably see each other around… it seems like all of us transfers are banished to the shittiest dorm building, after all. So… uh…” He shrugs and takes a couple steps backward, toward York Hall, giving Ben a little wave as he does so. “See ya later, alligator!”

.

Ben grins _(Okay.)_  and waves back at Eddie. He is just about to turn around but, without him even knowing, a tiny, almost inaudible voice in the back of his mind prevents him from doing so. A kid’s voice, which belongs to someone he may or may not have known before, saying,  _'No, when I say that you’re supposed to say–’_

“After a while, crocodile!” he answers back at Eddie before parting ways. A sudden feeling of joy fills his heart and, as he is leaving to class, for a fleeting moment, he knows he’s not alone.

.

At Ben’s response, Eddie’s face lights up and breaks into a huge, childlike grin. He hadn’t expected to hear the right response, for some reason, but he’s thrilled by it. He waves again before Ben begins to walk away, and then he turns and starts walking in the opposite direction. As he replays the entire meeting in his head, he can’t help but feel, more and more, an incredible sense of familiarity. It’s similar to the extreme deja vu he felt the other day with his roommate, Stan, but… this time, he feels more certain it isn’t just that.  
  
Just then, something dim and foggy enters his mind, but still distinct in its own way - a young boy, one who was just about twice his size but not intimidatingly so, smiling awkwardly _(Okay.)_  and his own voice, younger and childish, giggling back at him _(No, when I say that, you’re supposed to-)_.  
  
And now, the boy’s face is clearer than before - Ben.  _Ben_. Ben from Derry. Ben from the dam! Wait - the dam? The  _fucking baby dam._

Eddie whips around, Ben’s voice ringing in his ears  _(you guys are really cool)_ , but he’s already out of sight. Heart sinking, Eddie realizes he didn’t get his number, or even his last name.  _What was his last name??_ And, well, maybe it’s not the same person at all - but, no, that coincidence is just too much of a stretch… Isn’t it?  
  
He thinks about jogging after him, but he has no idea which direction he went.  _‘It’s fine,’_  he thinks - surely they’ll bump into each other again, though hopefully next time it won’t be so literal. So, he continues to his dorm to get a clean shirt before his next class.

But by the time Eddie leaves his dorm room fifteen minutes later, he can hardly remember the thing that made him think he knew Ben from childhood.

… And by the time his 'Religions of the World’ course begins, the connection itself has already faded, just as easily as dreams slip away upon waking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Ben - [ao3: hanscomarsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanscomarsh); [tumblr: hanscomarsh](https://hanscomarsh.tumblr.com)  
> 


	11. Richie & Eddie's ‘Date-Like Situation’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Richie do some texting during class, plans are made, and then they meet up to go out on an undeclared date-like situation hang out to see Infinity War, unofficially, as friends… or something. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**TEXTING - Wednesday, 08/29, early afternoon**

**[Eddie]**  
by the way, i forgot to ask this morning what movies you ended up watching the other night

 **[Richie]**  
None, but last night we marathoned 4 Jackie Chan movies it was awesome.

 **[Eddie]**  
wow, i really missed out  
that’s what… 6 hours? did you sleep?

 **[Richie]**  
We finished around 2:00am and hung out with another guy on our floor for a bit. I’m always a night owl so even if we weren’t watching movies I would have been up later than I should.

 **[Eddie]**  
i guess 2am isn’t so bad  
hmm

 **[Richie]**  
Whatcha hmmmming about.

 **[Eddie]**  
i say no, and then the very next night there’s another guy in the picture… i see how it is  

 **[Richie]**  
alaksdjhf  
IT WASN’T LIKE THAT!!

 **[Eddie]**  
mhm, sure

 **[Richie]**  
Roasting me already the NERVE.

 **[Eddie]**  
i’m not roasting, just making an inference

 **[Richie]**  
I like making new friends and being around people. It’s a problem haha

 **[Eddie]**  
it doesn’t sound like much of a problem  
and anyway, i’m just kidding

 **[Richie]**  
Well good! Cause in case you forgot I wanted YOU to come hang out with us more but apparently “sleeping” is more important than hanging out with my lovely self.

 **[Eddie]**  
well, yeah haha

 **[Richie]**  
Rude.

 **[Eddie]**  
i couldn’t risk sleeping in on the first day of my tuesday/thursday classes

 **[Richie]**  
Walking in late to my first class was pretty embarrassing. I usually wait mid-semester before fucking up like that.

 **[Eddie]**  
really? it seemed like that was part of your schtick

 **[Richie]**  
Most professors think I am both the best and worst student they ever have.

 **[Eddie]**  
is that a good thing?

 **[Richie]**  
I don’t really care either way. I think being unapologetically myself is more important than what others think of me. At least that’s the mentality I stick with.

 **[Eddie]**  
hah, i can’t imagine not caring what others think

 **[Richie]**  
You’re a badass and great, if anyone said anything shitty about you I’d beat them up. Or more likely insult them verbally because I’m a lover not a fighter. 

 **[Eddie]**  
haha thanks I guess, but you have no proof that i’m a badass OR great

 **[Richie]**  
I met you and have talked to you, what more proof do I need?

 **[Eddie]**  
i think you need more proof than that  
and anyway, i meant more along the lines of… the way I was raised. appearance matters, and so does what other people think

 **[Richie]**  
My child psychology classes would say that stems from a helicopter obsessive parent. Mine are neglectful so not caring is my coping mechanism according to specialists. But fuck them, I do what I want.

 **[Eddie]**  
i’m sorry to hear that about your parents

 **[Richie]**  
Oh, it’s totally fine. They got stuck with a crazy kid, I don’t blame them.

 **[Eddie]**  
you don’t seem crazy to me

 **[Richie]**  
You have no proof that I’m not. _:smirking emoji:_

 **[Eddie]**  
haha, i guess i deserved that  
you’re taking child psychology? or have you taken it before?

 **[Richie]**  
Psychology is one of my minors. I enjoy being able to read people better than I have in the past but I in no way want to be a psychologist because I have enough of my own issues to handle.

 **[Eddie]**  
you just like analyzing people then

 **[Richie]**  
Sorta… I use it to be a better actor I guess.  
Theatre is more my speed. But enough about me, why did you want to be a business major? From dinner it didn’t sound like you enjoy it much. Not that I particularly care for the major either.

 **[Eddie]**  
well i guess ‘want’ isn’t the best word to use, since i didn’t really think about it, i just AM that major. i don’t really know what i want to do, like at all…  
my mom signed me up for business classes last year and i figured i might as well stay with it and not waste any more credits.  
but i mean, it’s practical. i don’t have to enjoy it

 **[Richie]**  
That’s no way to LIVE! You are in college! You should take random and fun classes. Discover what you are interested in! Don’t take a major only cause it’s practical, throw in some excitement while you’re at it and you might find something better.

 **[Eddie]**  
haha i think the time for taking random classes is over, i’m already a few credits behind because of all the transferring i’ve done

 **[Richie]**  
I still think you should throw in something wild and crazy like a philosophy class. Those are always entertaining.

 **[Eddie]**  
i’m in a philosophy class right now, as we speak  
gen ed requirements have to be filled too, after all

 **[Richie]**  
Well good! Get your study of the fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence freak on!

 **[Eddie]**  
it’s a little more specific than that

 **[Richie]**  
How would you know…you’ve been texting me the whole class.  

 **[Eddie]**  
wow.  
i can still listen to the lecture  
would you prefer that i stop texting you?

 **[Richie]**  
NO! Always text me.

 **[Eddie]**  
hahaha  
hmm, ‘always’ is a lot to ask  
but anyway, the class is specifically about ethics in medical treatment. not really a 101 ‘let’s talk about the meaning of life in a socratic seminar’ sort of class.

 **[Richie]**  
I ask a lot of you because I care haha, BUT that sounds kinda interesting and not entirely boring.

 **[Eddie]**  
you care… but only about getting attention    
it is interesting, yeah. i like medical stuff

 **[Richie]**  
ME?!?! Care about ATTENTION?!  
Never.

 **[Eddie]**  
haha, sure, okay.  
i’d rather avoid attention myself

 **[Richie]**  
You deserve all the attention, Eddie my boy.

 **[Eddie]**  
well, then you’ll be glad to know that i spilled coffee on someone in public today, after our class  
got plenty of attention there  

 **[Richie]**  
Hahaha! Oh my god. Noooooo. I hope it wasn’t hot coffee. You’re hot enough as it is.

 **[Eddie]**  
_:unamused emoji:_  
no it wasn’t hot coffee, it was one of those blended drinks  
so no one got hurt, but it was still embarrassing

 **[Richie]**  
I tripped and face planted walking into my women’s and gender studies class. You just gotta get up, take a bow, and pretend it never happened. Haha

 **[Eddie]**  
yeahhh i can’t do that  
the guy was nice about it, though

 **[Richie]**  
Was he better lookin than me?

 **[Eddie]**  
... anyway, i would have hated to get punched the first week of school

 **[Richie]**  
Agsjdjhdd  
No one is going to punch someone as cute as you!

 **[Eddie]**  
you’d be surprised haha  
but thanks, i guess

 **[Richie]**  
This is a momentous occasion…  
You’ve begrudgingly accepted one of my compliments.  
I am so honored.

 **[Eddie]**  
now you’re making me sound like an asshole  
i just don’t really like compliments, is all

 **[Richie]**  
No one’s a bigger asshole than me Eddie. So no worries there.

 **[Eddie]**  
i highly doubt that

 **[Richie]**  
Psh, been called it my whole life. So I think it’s probably true by now.

 **[Eddie]**  
well, you don’t seem like an asshole to me

 **[Richie]**  
Stop making me SOFT.  
I have a reputation to uphold.

 **[Eddie]**  
you want me to think you’re an asshole?  
i can try

 **[Richie]**  
You can think about me as much as you want Eddie. _:winking emoji:_

 **[Eddie]**  
okay, well that worked  
you achieved your goal

 **[Richie]**  
Who knew I’d do it so quickly!

 **[Eddie]**  
only assholes use the winking emoji, sooo…

 **[Richie]**  
Alright I’ll stick to my favorite ones instead.

 **[Eddie]**  
which are?

**[Richie]**  
_:kissing emoji: :heart emoji:_

**[Eddie]**  
you must have a lot of success with that one

 **[Richie]**  
I… do not.  
But let me know if it works on you.  

 **[Eddie]**  
hmm and if i don’t let you know?

 **[Richie]**  
Then I’ll just die a slow gay death, it’s fineee.

 **[Eddie]**  
did you literally just say you will die if i don’t accept your flirting emojis??

 **[Richie]**  
Noooooo, that would be far too dramatic. Haha.

 **[Eddie]**  
it would be, but you seem like you’re pretty dramatic in general

 **[Richie]**  
Just keeping my life and everyone else’s as interesting as I can!

 **[Eddie]**  
haha, kind of arrogant to assume that you alone are what makes people’s lives interesting, isn’t it?    
or should i say ‘pretty presumptuous’

 **[Richie]**  
Damn  
Well fuck me then I guess.

 **[Eddie]**  
i’ll pass

 **[Richie]**  
…

 **[Eddie]**  
but maybe i could see a movie with you sometime  
maybe.

 **[Richie]**  
GASP  
PLEASE

 **[Eddie]**  
wow, you’re really not even going to try to play it cool?

 **[Richie]**  
Oh fuck no  
I am extremely not cool.  
There is not enough time in the day to “play it cool”.

 **[Eddie]**  
hahaha okay, that’s fair  
well since you asked nicely…

 **[Richie]**  
So movie tonight?!

 **[Eddie]**  
tonight?? uhh, sure, i guess i could

 **[Richie]**  
Awesome! What’s your favorite?

 **[Eddie]**  
oh, i assumed we would go to the movie theater

 **[Richie]**  
Oh! Yeah, let’s totally do that!

 **[Eddie]**  
okay, well, i guess let me know when and where to meet up? i don’t have a car though

 **[Richie]**  
I have a car!  
When’s your last class of the day? I’ll check movie times!

 **[Eddie]**  
i’m finished after this one

 **[Richie]**  
Awesome! There is a 4:00 PM showing of Infinity War at the second run theatre that we can see! Or Disney has a new movie (idk if you like those movies but I fucking love them)

 **[Eddie]**  
uhhh sure, either one works  
i guess i prefer the first option

 **[Richie]**  
Fantabulous!  
We can meet outside York Hall at 3:45

 **[Eddie]**  
okay, i’ll see you then

 **[Richie]**  
WHOO

* * *

 

**Wednesday, 08/29, late afternoon; Second Run Movie Theater**

Richie is smoking outside York Hall, waiting for Eddie to show up for their movie…whatever. He scrolls through their texts assessing whether this is going to be a date or a hangout. Eddie spent most of the texts roasting Richie, but in a cute way. Then  _he_  was the one who suggested watching a movie. Richie thought he meant a Netflix and chill situation, but Eddie said he wanted to go TO the movies. That means something.

At least, it means something to Richie. 

He loves everything about going to the movies. The movies Richie has seen have shaped him into the person he is today. He can impersonate an array of actors, and those actors have influenced him greatly. The cinema is where he escapes from reality, and when he was a kid he would sometimes literally hide there from bullies or adults. Movies inspire him to be a better person; they motivate and encourage him to fulfill his ambitious dreams to one day be on screen.   
  
He is glad they are seeing a Marvel movie that has already been out for a while, because Infinity War is an emotional ride and they’ll have a lot to talk about after. Not that Richie ever has an issue talking, but he feels  _overly_  comfortable around Eddie. There’s this constant urge in both the classes they share to keep his attention the whole time, much like how he used to treat his crushes growing up. But Richie has not had a legitimate crush on someone in a while. He wonders if that’s what this is for a second, but thinks better of it. A crush can lead to a relationship, and as he’s learned from his last couple of relationships… he is a shit boyfriend. No need to subject Eddie to such horrors. He will just play whatever this is by ear.

.

Eddie is a little bit stressed at the moment, because when he said he  _might_  agree to seeing a movie with Richie, he meant sometime during the weekend. You know, when people  _normally_  go out. But for some reason, he couldn’t say no to Richie’s request that it happen today, not even two hours after their conversation. Eddie barely had enough time to get back to his room and change -  _yet again_  - into something more casual (but still cute). He also had to mentally prepare himself for what may or may not be some kind of date-like situation.  
  
‘ _Date-like situation_.’ He isn’t sure if he intended it to be something like that, but it certainly feels that way.  
  
When he exits the dormitory, he sees Richie right away, cigarette in hand. He’s reminded immediately of the strange, all-consuming feeling of comfort he had the other night after Richie hugged him, and he takes a deep breath, absentmindedly brushing his hand against the inhaler in his back pocket. Putting on a smile to hide his uncertainty, he walks over to where Richie is standing. “Ready?”

.

“Ready, Eddie!” Richie says, already thriving off getting to rhyme his name. Tonight’s going to be a blast. Just the prospect of going to the movies has him giddy. He snuffs out his cigarette, takes a piece of bubble gum out of his pocket, and plops it in his mouth before offering one to Eddie.

.

Eddie hesitates and then shakes his head. “No thanks, just brushed my teeth.”

It’s still early in the evening, so students are milling about and returning from their afternoon classes. Eddie doesn’t particularly want to stand around for very long, so he moves a little closer to Richie. “So uh, are you parked nearby?”

.

“I was blessed with a prime parking spot for all my cleannnn livin’.” He puts the gum back in his pocket as they walk to his truck, which is located in the front row of parking spots. Richie automatically goes to open the passenger door for Eddie, something his mother always made him do regardless of whether he was the driver or not. The habit is ingrained in him now.

When Richie gets to the driver’s side, he thanks his good senses for cleaning his car that afternoon.

.

Eddie tries to hold back a smile when Richie opens the car door for him, and he almost wants to comment on it - on how surprisingly old fashioned it is, coming from someone like him. But he doesn’t want to say anything that might be discouraging, because that sort of gesture is so rare as it is. So he simply thanks him and gets in the car, which is a somewhat retro looking red pickup truck. It seems fitting, somehow.

“This is nice,” he says when Richie gets in, looking around the interior of the truck. “Nicer than your roommate’s car.”

.

Richie beams at him. “Thanks! It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten. My old man gave it to me when my gramps passed away. He was one of my favorite people, so I like being connected to him in this way.” He looks in his rearview mirror, surprised not to see his glasses on his face, but then remembers he put on contacts before leaving. He changes gears and they are off.

.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather.” Eddie has no idea how recently this happened, but it feels like the right thing to say nonetheless. “It sure is a cool gift, though. My mom would never give me a car. I didn’t even start learning how to drive until this summer.” He laughs softly. “I always wanted to drive so badly, so sometimes I think that’s exactly why I wasn’t allowed to.”

.

This concept baffles Richie. His parents always let him do anything he wanted. It would be  _weird_  for them to say no about anything. “Wait, what do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with driving. Why would she stop you from doing something you really wanted to do?”

.

“Because it’s dangerous,” Eddie says, looking over at Richie, bewildered that he wouldn’t think of such an obvious explanation. “There are a lot of crazy drivers in the city. And I didn’t really  _need_  to drive there anyway.” He shrugs. “Plenty of public transportation. Though I wouldn’t consider any of those options much safer _or_ cleaner.”

.

Richie shrugs. “Everything in life is a bit dangerous. I love driving. It’s liberating. You get to decide where you want to go and what music to listen to.” He glances at Eddie, who is staring forward with an unreadable expression on his face. “You can go on new awesome as fuck adventures or sit and talk with someone for hours with no destination in mind.” His eyes linger on Eddie’s cheeks, which always seem to be a little pink when he is thinking, then stares back at the road.

.

“That sounds nice.” Eddie smiles, but it’s a somewhat sad one, as Richie’s words cause him to think about the wanderlust he had as a young kid. He remembers his fascination with trains, cars, travel, maps…  _anything_  that might help him fantasize about being free, long before he realized what exactly he wanted freedom  _from_. “I liked cars, as a kid. I just never… I don’t know…” He shrugs again, trailing off.

.

“Well, now we HAVE to practice driving at some point. It’ll be so fun.”

A few minutes later, Richie pulls into the parking lot of the movie theatre. A big sign reads  _Bangor Second Run Theater_.

.

Eddie smiles at Richie as he gets out of the car, and then walks around to the front to wait.

.

Richie locks his car and they head into the theater. There is a bored teen working the ticket counter. He looks up from his phone, waiting for Richie to say what movie they are seeing.

“I’ll get the tickets and you can get the snacks?” Richie says to Eddie.

.

Eddie nods and waits for Richie to buy their tickets before heading over to the concession area, which looks fairly outdated. This is definitely not the  _nicest_  movie theater he’s ever been to, but that’s probably because it doesn’t make much money selling discount tickets for movies that are no longer playing anywhere else.

“What do you want?” he asks, looking up at the other boy.

.

Richie looks at the kid working the concessions. “Popcorn, Skittles, and a cherry icy with blue just at the top, my lad.” He takes out his gum and tosses it in a trash bin.

.

“Okay, umm, just a bottle of water for me, please,” Eddie says, already worrying about how expensive movie snacks are. He almost wants to get something for himself, but he’s hardly hungry, and he can hear his mother’s voice in his head reminding him about sodium and sugar, and how diet drinks cause cancer.  
  
Then he looks up at Richie again, only for a moment, and reconsiders. She might question the purchase when she goes over his bank statement, but she won’t know  _exactly_  what he bought… “And Peanut M&Ms, too, I guess,” he adds, handing his credit card over with a look of guilt on his face.

.

Richie smirks and bumps Eddie’s shoulder. “Good to know you’re not allergic to nuts.”

He grabs the candy, drink and popcorn then walks off toward the condiment station, where he applies an absurd amount of butter to the bag of popcorn.

.

Feeling a little flustered by Richie’s comment, Eddie just silently follows him to the condiments, trying to think of some kind of comeback. The opportunity presents itself as he’s watching Richie put butter on his popcorn.  _A lot_ of butter… and still more butter…. an honestly disgusting amount of butter.   
  
He makes a face at first, but then the  _perfect_ way to get back at Richie for his comment suddenly pops into his head, and before he can think better of it he says, “Well, good to know that  _you_  don’t go too light on lube.”

After the blatantly suggestive statement leaves his mouth, he just waits for a reaction, trying hard to keep his expression serious. He hopes he isn’t blushing.

.

Richie almost drops the bag of popcorn. He whips his head in Eddie’s direction, staring at him in shock, and sees that the shorter guy is trying to be serious but holding back a smile. This makes Richie burst into laughter, the kind that vibrates your entire being.   
  
“Eddie gets off a good one!” Richie grabs his movie concessions, throws his arm around Eddie’s neck, and steers him toward their theater, still laughing uncontrollably.

.

Eddie is taken aback at first by Richie’s physicality, but it’s not exactly uncomfortable, and he doesn’t pull away. It’s easy to follow Richie’s lead, and even easier to let his nervous laughter turn into genuine laughter. For a moment, with Richie’s arm still slung casually across his shoulders, he feels that sense of familiarity again.

He’s reminded of the way he felt the other night because of the smell of cigarettes, and, he suddenly remembers, the guy at the library that morning made him feel similarly -  _but why?_ The phrase ‘gets off a good one’ is still on his mind as they walk down the hallway, and he can _swear_  that there is something else connected to that - a word, or a phrase - but… Richie hadn’t said anything else…  
  
Once they enter the small, outdated theater, he finally pulls away from Richie and looks around. There is no one else there, at least at the moment, which isn’t all that surprising as it’s still early in the afternoon. “Where do you like to sit?”

.

“I usually sit in the back, as I’m told I lack any ability to whisper when I talk during a movie, but it’s up to you,” Richie says.

.

Eddie shrugs. “Well, we might end up being the only ones here, so… where would you sit if you didn’t have to worry about your not-whispering?”

.

“Ok!” Richie says with thrill. He immediately starts walking toward the middle, right in the center. “Fuck, I’m so excited. I never get to be this close.”   
  
Once they settle in their seats, the previews begin. Richie’s tossing popcorn in his mouth haphazardly, sometimes missing. He passes the popcorn bag to Eddie automatically.

.

Eddie looks down at the popcorn bag and then up at Richie. “You put like _a gallon_  of butter on that. I think I’m good with not having a heart attack today, thanks,” he whispers, despite there being no one else around. He gets more comfortable in his seat before adding, “I’m excited too. I can’t even remember the last time I saw one of these Marvel movies.”

.

Richie turns to give Eddie an outraged face, which only looks goofy and dramatic coming from him. “Eddie! Then we shouldn’t be seeing  _Infinity War!_  You won’t know any of the characters or plot or relationships! What was the last one you saw?!”

.

“Uhhh…” Eddie tries to think back, because for a minute he really _can’t_ remember the last one he saw. But then he has some vague memory of going to the movies a few years ago, probably even before he moved to Queens. He remembers the movie, but doesn’t remember who he was with, which is strange, because he has a feeling he saw all these movies with the same person. “I think it was  _Guardians of the Galaxy?”_  
  
He looks at Richie apologetically, feeling like an idiot. “I’m sorry, I do like these movies, I just, I don’t know… haven’t gotten around to seeing the last few, I guess?” Truthfully, it hardly occurred to him to go to the movies  _at all_ in the last few years, until today. “Should we leave? Or I can read up on the other ones really quick.” He takes out his phone.

.

Richie makes a show of slowly placing his popcorn and candy down on the chair next to him. He goes to adjust his glasses smartly, but realizes they aren’t on his face so he just mimics them being there. Then he focuses in on Eddie. “My moment has finally come. Eddie Kaspbrak, I am going to give you a  _proper_  recap of everything you need to know about the Marvel Universe before seeing this movie.”  
  
He takes a deep breath and starts doing a loud announcer voice, “Here’s what you missed on  _THE AVENGERS!_ So we begin with Iron Man, AKA Tony Stark-”

.

Eddie immediately cuts Richie off, already exasperated. “I know who Iron Man is!” He sounds annoyed, but only because Tony Stark is his favorite - he doesn’t know why, because he doesn’t relate to the guy at all, but something about the character just makes him feel at ease. There’s no way Richie would know that, of course, but for some reason Eddie feels like he _ought_  to.

.

Richie stops only to let Eddie talk, then continues forward. “ _-who_  is technically retired but came out of retirement for the last Captain America movie to convince everyone to sign these stupid Accords after they kinda blew up Sokovia - a made up country - while trying to also  _save_  Sokovia. That’s a whole  _thing_  and I am bitter because they killed Quicksilver, and I LOVE Quicksilver.” Richie’s announcer voice tapers off at the end as he becomes too focused on the recap. “Some peeps signed, some were like _fuck no_ , and by the end of movie-”

.

Eddie cuts him off again, already lost and starting to get stressed that this might  _actually_  all be 'need to know’ information. “Wait, what movie?”

.

He waves his hand in a nonchalant manner. “ _Age of Ultron_  - unimportant, bad movie - but by the end, everyone was pissed as shit at each other. Iron Man continued the Avengers, and tried to recruit Spider-Man. Tom Holland is the best, by the way, you are going to fucking love him. So currently, Tony’s split between Stark Industries and repping the stupid half Avengers-”

.

“Wait, what do you mean by 'stupid half’?” Eddie asks.

.

“Black Widow, Vision, War Machine, Black Panther, and Spider-man were on Iron Man’s side. Everyone else got arrested - but later freed by Cap.  _Anyway_ , Iron Man was also dealing with his relationship with Pepper Potts, who  _graciously_ took him back after an unfortunate breakup. Tony doesn’t deserve such a queen, goddess supreme, but I digress.” Richie takes an over the top breath.

.

Eddie frowns. “Jeez, you’re really hard on Tony Stark.” For some reason, Eddie is surprised by this. However he can’t dwell on that, because there is something more important to ask about here. “But wait, what did he do to Pepper? Why doesn’t he deserve her? I thought they were like, _in love_.”

.

“He keeps choosing super hero work over her!” Richie cries passionately. “Pepper deserves the world and Tony can’t give it to her. But they love each other so I GUESS I respect her decision to take him back.”  
  
“ _CONTINUING_ \- Captain America is currently a wanted fugitive. That’s right. My  _father_  is being completely disrespected and so is his beautiful fellow fugitive boyfriend Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. Cap refused to sign the Accords and basically said ‘fuck you’ to Iron Man. Then he fled in order to defend his fiancé, Bucky, which, same, I understand. “

.

Eddie rolls his eyes, finding it  _very_  hard to believe there is anything actually gay in these movies. “Sounds fake, but okay,” he says flatly, then blatantly opens up google on his phone and starts typing in 'what do I need to know-’. Luckily, google auto-fills ’ _before watching Infinity War_ ’ and brings him to a plethora of articles to choose from. He clicks on the first option and starts skimming, deciding at this point that he needs to take everything Richie says with a grain of salt.

.

“He quit his role as Captain America, giving up the shield - which literally made me die inside - and went underground,” Richie says, but realizes quickly that Eddie has decided to stop listening. He snatches Eddie’s phone out of his hand and puts it in his own front pocket. “Alright alright alright - all you need to know is there is a big bad purple dinosaur looking guy-”

.

Eddie is at first annoyed about his phone, but can’t help but laugh at this. “What? Noo, not Barney!” He feigns surprise and looks up at Richie with big, fake-disappointed eyes, waiting for just the right moment… before quickly reaching across the armrest to grab his phone back.

.

Richie grabs Eddie’s hands and clasps them together, holding tight so he cannot remove them. “If you want to get in my pants, you just have to ask.” He grins. “ _Barney’s_ name is Thanos. He is trying to collect all the Infinity Stones. When he collects them all, he will control the universe. Sherlock Holmes - Doctor Strange - controls time. Jarvis became Vision, and now has a body and powers, and - oh - the Guardians have a new member, Mantis, and Quill and Gamora are  _definitely_  doing the nasty.”  
  
He continues quickly as the previews wrap up, “OH! And also, Black Panther is on the scene now, and his home country Wakanda will play a big role in this, because they have really advanced technology - Vibranium - it’s what Cap’s shield is made of. Wakanda is where his  _husband_  Bucky is healing from his mind control right now. And uh, OH OH, also? Thor and Loki are in space WITH THE HULK!  _All_  the supers are in this, so there will be a lot of battles.”

Putting back on his radio announcer voice, he ends with, “And that’s what you missed on  _THE AVENGERS!_ ”

.

As Richie goes on with his spiel, more than half of Eddie’s focus is just on where his hands are at the moment. He’d  _hoped_  to distract Richie to retrieve his phone, but  _apparently_  he does not get thrown off his game very easily. So instead, Eddie is the one who is distracted and flustered, his hands locked in place by ones which are…  _noticeably_  bigger than his own. At least it’s dark enough so that his blush isn’t visible - or so he hopes.  
  
When Richie finally finishes talking, he swallows and glances back up to his face. “Okay, thanks. You can um - you can let go of me now.”

.

Richie barely registers the physical contact until Eddie says something. He glances at their hands, holding on for a second longer than he should, then he releases them and sits back. His stomach is fluttering a bit, and he tosses a handful of Skittles in his mouth for a distraction.

.

The moment Richie lets go, Eddie almost wishes he hadn’t told him to.  _Almost._  Confused by this, he turns back toward the screen and forgets about his phone entirely. The previews are over, so now is the point at which the lights go off entirely, signaling that the movie is about to start. Eddie sneaks another glance at Richie, but doesn’t linger there.

.

When the screen indicates that the audience should turn off their phones, Richie reaches into his pocket and places the phone on Eddie’s lap. “So did my recap helppp?” he sings the last word, accenting the ‘p’ with a pop.

.

Eddie looks down at his lap and back up at Richie, smiling a little in spite of himself. He picks up the phone and switches it to silent mode, though it’s only out of habit, since they’re still the only people in the theatre. “I guess I won’t know until we’re watching the movie, will I?”

.

The silent opening starts. Richie places his elbow on the armrest leaning over to whisper - well, whisper for Richie, which means he’s using a mildly softer speaking voice - in Eddie’s ear. “It’s going to be hard to focus with you next to me.”

.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but then looks over and gives Richie a sweet smile. “Yeah, same!” His expression goes flat. “… Especially if you _talk the whole time._ ”

.

Richie meets his eyes and blows him a kiss. “You make my heart swoon, buttercup.”

.

Eddie inhales sharply and quickly turns back to face the screen, face hot again. It’s not fair that Richie meets every single comeback with something so easily flirtatious, as if he knows  _exactly_  what will get him embarrassed and flustered. Moreover, Eddie’s not sure why it even  _works_  - he normally hates that sort of thing, finding it all so overdone and insincere. But maybe…

“Well, the movie started, so, keep it to yourself,” he mumbles quietly, focusing on the opening sequence.

.

As the first major scene happens, Richie can already feel himself freaking out. Movies he loves always make him overreact and latch onto the person he watches them with; it doesn’t matter that he has already seen the movie, he still freaks out. So at the very beginning, when his hand reaches out to grab Eddie’s bicep, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. His heart is racing.

.

At first, Eddie is completely absorbed in the movie, both because he’s trying to piece together the events preceding it just from context, and because he’s remembering quickly how invested he used to be in this universe. He REALLY wishes Richie spent more time explaining what came _directly_  before this, instead of wasting time on other things that definitely don’t seem relevant yet, or just making stuff up.

However, he is pulled out of focus when Richie grabs onto him, and his immediate reaction is to jerk away - but he stops himself, so his arm only jerks a little bit, not quite out of Richie’s grasp. “What are you  _doing?_ ” he whispers harshly.

.

Richie’s eyes don’t leave the screen, but he let’s go of Eddie with a quick, “Sorry.” He cringes at the death happening and puts his hands over his eyes, then immediately lowers them to relive the pain.

.

Unlike Richie, Eddie _isn’t_  one to cringe and squirm during most movies. So, despite the initial shock factor of something so huge happening before the title card even goes up, he simply sits and watches in polite silence with his hands neatly folded in his lap, a carryover from years of having to watch TV with his mother. But once the scene changes and the setting is back on Earth, he says quietly, “Wow, that was a lot…”

.

“When I first saw this, and the opening sequence with all the flashes of old MCU movies happened in silence I said aloud, 'Oh we are fucked’. Everyone around me laughed, but then we were not laughing at all.”

.

Eddie smiles, imagining Richie sitting in the middle of a silent, crowded theater and being unable to stop himself from talking.

.

They sit in silence for a bit, watching the next battle scene unfold. Hulk is tossed across scene as Richie starts drinking from his icy, except he does it so quickly that a stab of pain slams through his head. “Ack! Fuck! Brain freeze.”

.

As they continue to watch the first battle, featuring Iron Man and a wizard who Eddie assumes is Dr. Strange because of Richie’s Sherlock reference, he’s filled with a strange nostalgia, but he can’t dwell on it for long because Richie’s sudden brain freeze pulls him back to reality.

“That’s what you get for going too fast,” he says, laughing. “Try tilting your head back and pushing your tongue up against the roof of your mouth, that’s supposed to help.” He doesn’t know why he knows that, he just does - maybe it was relevant once upon a time, but now it’s just one of many seemingly pointless, vaguely medical facts Eddie has in his arsenal.

.

Richie does what he is instructed. “I live life in the fast lane,” he tries to say, but with his tongue on the roof of his mouth it sounds more like 'I leuve lyphe in da past wane’.

.

Eddie laughs, though it comes out as a giggle. “And how’s that workin’ out for ya?” He pauses for a beat. “It should be okay to stop now.”

.

Richie’s brain freeze is gone when he rights his tongue. “It worked!” He reaches over instinctively and pinches Eddie’s cheek. “Thanks, Dr. K!”

.

This time, Eddie really does jerk away, swatting Richie’s hand aside and momentarily forgetting there is even a movie playing as he just stares at him in shock. “What the fuck, don’t do that!!”

There it is again - that same nauseous, anxious feeling he had during Stan’s little bird lecture, and earlier in the day when he spilled coffee on that guy (what was his name again?). It’s jarring, and he can’t place why, but he just  _knows_  it runs deeper than his typical anxiety.  
  
After a moment, he realizes how rude that must have seemed, tearing away from Richie like that. So he tries to relax, but he still feels his cheek burning where Richie touched him. “I - sorry.” He furrows his brows and drops his gaze. “I didn’t mean to, um… that was just… unexpected… sorry.”

.

Richie’s throat dries up at the visceral reaction Eddie had to him pinching his cheek. He cannot fathom why he did that. Maybe it was something he did a long time ago, when he would mess with a friend. At least, that’s what he thinks.

He isn’t upset by Eddie’s freak out, though; he’s starting to think he is always a ball of nerves, so he just gives him a really serious look. “I think I know what the problem is.”

.

Eddie regards Richie with a look of mild suspicion on his face, and then slowly says, “Oookay… what…?”

.

“You are  _clearly_  suffering from the trauma of my good looks and need to be taken to the hospital immediately.” Richie gives him a sly grin. “Grab your things. On second thought, don’t get up. I might have to carry you before you faint.”

.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but laughs a little and relaxes into his seat again. “Yeah,  _that’s_  what it is.”

.

“Glad you agree. First step is admitting you have a problem.” Richie flips smoothly into a southern drawl, “Mama alwahys use’ta say ah’d infect folks with my chah’ms. Ah shoulda listen’ta her while ah still had the chance. Sorry, Mama!” Richie reaches toward the ground. “Ah hope the devil’ll take me like he took you.”

.

Unable to keep a straight face despite much effort, Eddie ends up falling into a fit of laughter, impressed by Richie’s solid accent. “You sound like that fancy bird lawyer from Futurama, or an evil oil tycoon or something.”

He brings his feet up onto the chair and loosely wraps his arms around his knees, still laughing and looking at Richie. “But are you sure your ‘mama’ said charms and not  _cheese?_  Because that whole bit was pretty cheesy.”

.

Eddie laughing at his impression brings a warm rush through Richie. He never outwardly seeks validation in his humor, but Eddie’s laugh brings an excitement he can barely comprehend. “I should have wine on me at all times because you are hanging out with someone who may as well be  _made_  of cheese.”

Richie‘s eyes catch the action on the screen. “SHIT, WE ARE MISSING THOR SEXINESS!”

.

Eddie starts at Richie’s sudden change in volume, and quickly looks at the screen, expecting something intense to be happening. But it’s just Thor being Thor, interacting with the Guardians, so he laughs. “Yeah, gotta love the one-eyed look. But I like Peter Quill more, I think.”

Now that he’s looking, though, Chris Pratt’s rugged aesthetic reminds him of the guy he met at the library that morning. He’d been shaken by his good looks initially, but for some reason thinking of him that way  _now_ just feels wrong. “Or, well, I think he’s funny. They’re both funny.”

.

“Which Avenger do you think is the funniest?” Richie asks.

.

Eddie doesn’t look away from the screen when he responds, as he’s too absorbed in Peter Quill’s jealous insistence that Thor isn’t that great. “Uhh, well it’s been a while since I’ve watched these kinds of movies, like I said… but I guess I’ve always liked Tony Stark,” he says quietly, despite not really needing to do so. “I guess  _you_ aren’t a fan, based on your little recap earlier, but I think he’s cool, and funny.”  
  
.

“Oh no, Tony is my favorite. He’s so complex, trying to rectify the mistakes of his father with his company, looking out for Peter Parker the way his father never did for him, and teaching himself communication skills. I aspire to be like that, in some ways. I just think he needs to balance his personal life and superhero life better.”

Richie thinks about it a little more. He doesn’t know where these thoughts are coming from, but his motormouth is not stopping. “I don’t know. I just think the most important people in your life should come first.”

.

Eddie looks at him now, a bit surprised that a simple question like ‘who’s funniest’ could so quickly turn serious. “So you would really choose one person, or a handful of people, over  _saving the world?_ ” He shifts his position so that he’s still curled up in his seat, but now leaning a little closer to Richie. “I guess I can’t really imagine what it would be like to have that kind of responsibility, but… I think I’d put the greater good first. Or, I  _would_ , if I were a lot braver and had cool powers and technology at my disposal.” He laughs.

.

“The fact that you even said that means you are a lot braver than you think.” Richie kicks his long legs up onto the seat in front of him, getting comfortable. He turns his head, gazing into Eddie’s eyes. “If I were put into the position of having to save the world, I bet I was dragged there kicking and screaming, and the people dragging me must be _really_  fucking important to me. So in a way I  _would_  do it to save the world, but I’d actually selfishly be there to save my friends.”

.

“Hmm…” Eddie trails off, tearing his gaze away to watch as the Guardians-plus-Thor split off into two missions up on the screen. He feels  _something_  pulling at him, deep in his gut, and he anxiously presses his fingertips into his thighs. “I think that’s okay… sometimes heroes don’t get to choose to be, they just _have_  to be. What matters is doing the right thing, I think, even if the reasons are selfish. But you know, maybe for Tony it’s not about putting the hero stuff first or neglecting Pepper, or whatever. Maybe he  _wants_  to give her the world, but he just has to make sure there’s a world left to give her, you know? He sees the bigger picture.”

.

Upon hearing this, Richie has a gut wrenching feeling that he would do the same as Tony Stark and drop everything to save the world for someone important.

“I would…” he starts, but can’t find it in himself to finish the sentence. He just grabs his Skittles and tosses a handful in his mouth.

  
.

Eddie glances over at Richie, wondering what he was going to say, but deciding not to press. Maybe he just wants to watch the movie. So that’s what they do, for a little while longer, as Eddie is introduced to Wakanda in one scene and laughing at the banter between Peter Parker, Tony, and Dr. Strange in the next. At some point, Eddie starts to finally eat his candy, and they talk on and off about how cool each of the heroes are.  
  
It isn’t until after Thanos takes Gamora back to his ship that Eddie starts to feel stressed again. As if Gamora’s willingness to sacrifice herself to keep Thanos at bay wasn’t bad enough, the way he speaks to her just makes Eddie’s skin crawl. “He acts like everything he’s done has somehow been for  _her_ benefit,” he says suddenly, breaking their short silent streak. “It’s so…  _manipulative_. He really believes he’s doing the right thing.”

.

“He is completely committed to his mad philosophy, and the fact that his philosophy is random execution makes him all the more terrifying.” Richie reaches over to trade candy with Eddie. They switch, hands touching for a moment, and he tosses a couple M&M’s in his mouth.   
  
“I can’t imagine being in such a horrible situation. Gamora’s dealt with this since she was probably what, five or six? No one should ever be trapped or manipulated in their own home. She deserves so much better.” Richie passes back the candy, staring at Eddie and waiting for a reply.

.

Eddie trades candy with Richie and then back again almost unthinkingly, as though it’s out of habit. However, he tenses up at Richie’s comment, and isn’t quite sure how to respond. It obviously occurs to him that he’s felt trapped more than once in his life, but he barely knows Richie - he never talks to  _anyone_  about it, let alone people who are still nearly strangers.

So he doesn’t. He just shrugs.

“Yeah, it must be rough losing a parent at that age and ending up with someone who just wants total control. But she’s happy now, with Peter and the other Guardians. So…” He smiles a little at Richie and gives another slight shrug. “Sometimes things work out in the end.”

.

Richie smiles. “Well, we will just have to see if that’s true for Gamora.”

.

Eddie eyes Richie with suspicion before turning back to the screen. At this point, the scene has changed to Vormir, and well, what happens next can be left unsaid. Needless to say, Eddie’s inherent idealism isn’t cut out for  _Infinity War_. After the scene passes, Eddie lets out a groan and sinks down into his chair. “Ugh, you should have warned me that was going to happen! What the fuck…”

.

Richie laughs lightly at Eddie’s reaction. He looks like he is trying to become one with the movie chair. “But I enjoy your positive perspective so much, I cannot bear to crumble it myself.”

.

“So you’d rather just watch it crumble on its own, I see how it is.” Eddie sits up again, only to slump over to one side, resting his chin in his hand with his elbow propped on the arm rest. He looks up at Richie. “Tell me that something  _good_  happens next.”

.

Richie looks at Eddie, giving him a sweet smile. He puts his own arm next to Eddie’s then leans his face forward, careful not to get too close, but close enough that their noses are  _almost_  touching. He speaks low, “Oh Eddie, you are in for  _wild_  ride.” Then he leans back in his chair, smirking.

.

Breath catching, Eddie meets Richie’s eyes and blinks a couple of times, but before he has the chance to pull away himself, Richie leans back smugly. Face heating up, as it seems especially prone to do lately, Eddie quickly refocuses on the movie and sits up straight again. “Great, can’t wait,” he says hoarsely, hands twisting nervously in his lap.

.

Richie is thankful for the dark lighting, because his face is definitely a bit flushed from being so near Eddie’s face. In any other circumstance, he would have closed the distance. However, for some inexplicable reason, he does not want to rush whatever this might be.

In the next scene, Tony meets the Guardians, and Richie and Eddie laugh at the quick dialogue exchanges between all of them. “Alright. Fuck, Marry, or Kill, but with the Chrises in this movie. Go.”

.

“Oh, wow. You’re really making some assumptions about my preferences,” Eddie says with a smirk, knowing full well he has given Richie  _every_  reason to believe he likes men, particularly with the lube joke from earlier. “And that’s such an unfair prompt. But uhh… I guess I’d marry Hemsworth. He’s funny, and tall, and he seems like a good dad.”

He thinks for another moment, watching Peter Quill go off on Tony Stark. “I’d, uh, have sex with Pratt, because he’s… Chris Pratt. Also funny, and tall. And I guess ‘kill’ Evens, because I dunno, he’s all that’s left?”

.

“My answers are all the same honestly. Also, you don’t have to be gay to want to fuck a  _Chris_.” A piece of random knowledge pops into his head. “Chris Hemsworth and Chris Pratt are my height, in case you were curious.“ Richie gently elbows Eddie’s side.

.

“Hmm, I’ll have to fact check that later.” Eddie shifts in his seat; he hadn’t realized he said anything that Richie would see as an opening, but in retrospect it surely sounds like he has a type. “Uhh, okay, fuck, marry, kill…” He smiles innocently at Richie, giving a moment for suspense to build. “Squidward from the beginning of the movie, that Voldemort looking dude from the Soul Stone place, or Thanos in all his big-chin glory.”

.

"What a truly sexy combination of aliens.” Richie laughs heartily. He gives it a bit of thought before answering. “Marry Thanos, as I hope he would spare his husband from harm, but really who knows after how he treated his  _daughter._  Fuck Squidward because I bet he is a gentle lover; and kill Voldemort, as he was a Nazi. Nazis can choke.”

.

“Alright, that’s good logic. I agree, though reluctantly, because I can’t imagine Squidward would be very good in bed.” Eddie laughs. “But it can be a one night stand kind of deal, right? Never have to see him again after.”

.

“It would definitely be a one night stand. Oh my God though-” A concerned expression passes over Richie’s face. “If I was married to Thanos, he would wreck me every night. I don’t know if that terrifies me or turns me on. ”

.

Eddie shrugs and begins to speak quite frankly, “It could be a sexless marriage. Besides, he’s like a war lord or whatever, so he’d have better things to do. Unless you had an Infinity Stone, _then_ he’d probably pay attention, and kill you, I’m sure.” He gestures at the screen, where there is now a battle waging in Wakanda, thousands of gross alien creatures piling up against the country’s defense system. “Now those things, you definitely wouldn’t want _them_  near your dick.”

.

Richie makes a disgusted face and laughs. “Agreed. The rest of the world may want to fuck aliens and monsters, but Richie and Eddie will PASS.”

.

Eddie shoots Richie a bewildered look. “Wait, do people really want that? I was just making a joke. Or, trying to.”

.

“Oh my God. You don’t know?!” Richie turns to face him. “There is this show on Netflix, and everyone wants to fuck the robot alien. Also, everyone wants to get with Venom.”

.

“That’s… odd. Why aren’t regular humans good enough? I mean, what’s so great about aliens and robots and gross deformities?”  _Wait, gross deformities?? Where did that come from?_ “There’s so much that could go wrong.”

.

“Straights are tired of their missionary position life and queers are kinky,” Richie answers.

.

Eddie scoffs. “Well… people are weird.” He shifts to get more comfortable as the battle scene continues on. The word ‘queer’ just brings up bad feelings from his past, having been called that over and over by classmates all through grade school, but he chooses not to bring all  _that_  up.

.

“Maybe  _we’re_  the weird ones.” Richie tries to crisscross his long legs onto the seat. It is a little difficult but he manages to do it. He leans his elbows up on the backs of the chairs. Sitting around for two and half hours is too long for him. If he enjoyed running, he would take a lap around the theater to get some energy out.

.

Eddie notices Richie’s fidgeting and quickly checks the time on his phone (which is fine - can’t bother people who aren’t there, after all). “It shouldn’t be too much longer.” At this point, the scene has shifted back to space, where Thanos meets up with the Guardians and company. “Oh shit…”

.

“There is still a lot to go but I love this sequence.” Richie absentmindedly stretches his arms out so they are on the backs of the seats beside him, which means he now has his arm behind Eddie. He goes still for a second, realizing he had accidentally made a move. He tries to focus back on the movie, ignoring the quickened beating in his chest.

.

Richie’s movement causes Eddie’s shoulders to tense momentarily, but at the same time his stomach flips over, and that combination of discomfort and anticipation is confusing to say the least. _'There it is,’_  he thinks, _'he did this the other night too, at dinner…’_ He glances over and sees that Richie’s other arm is splayed over the back of the opposite recliner, and his lips pull to one side in confusion. Maybe it was unintentional, and the arm behind his head doesn’t mean a thing.  _Maybe._  
  
That thought helps him relax again, and he drops his shoulders with a controlled exhale. On screen, the heroes are finally forcing Thanos into submission, and it seems like the climax of the movie is about to come to a head, which Eddie is glad for - things were really beginning to seem hopeless, even in spite of Thor’s new hammer.

.

Richie cringes at the realization of what is to come. The heroes have been getting their asses handed to them the whole movie, but this is when Quill ruins everything for all of them. Richie takes the arm not around Eddie and twists in his seat to place it palm up on the armrest between them. “This may sound dramatic, but I’m gonna need you to hold my hand for what happens next.”   
  
On screen, Peter asks Thanos the pinnacle question,  _‘Where is Gamora?’_ and Richie is watching intently with a grimace on his face. “It’s the only way I’ll get through this shit.”

.

Part of Eddie wants to just up and leave. Two days ago he  _swore_  to himself not to get charmed by Richie, and yet, here he is, on the precipice of being an idiot. He doesn’t move at first, eyes darting between the screen and Richie’s hand, knowing that he’s running out of time to make this decision. As the tension reaches a boiling point in the film, he bites his bottom lip and decides to just do as he’s told. What’s the harm in it?  
  
He slips his hand loosely into Richie’s, and they fit together so easily it’s almost off-putting. His heart is pounding now, but it has little to do with what’s transpiring on screen. He knows this part must be important, though, so he tries to remain focused.

.

Richie feels the weight of Eddie’s hand as it eases slowly into his own. Their hands contrast in almost every way. Eddie’s is soft, delicate, and small. Richie’s hands are bigger, rough from constantly strumming his guitar, with long pianist fingers. He keeps his hand relaxed at first, enjoying the easy way their palms fit, and how comfortable he is with Eddie’s finger tips grazing halfway up his own fingers.  
  
Then Thanos gets free from the supers and Richie squeezes Eddie’s hand nervously. He’s grinding his teeth as they are all tossed harshly into the air. Then when Thanos creates the meteors crashing toward all of them, Richie shrinks in his seat. “I love this movie but I also hate this movie,” Richie says in a low voice, not even bothering to hide his anxiety.

.

“You didn’t have to take me to this one,” Eddie whispers back, heart pounding. There are plenty of movies out, even at this second run theater, but this one really seemed like the only choice at the time, though Eddie can’t begin to explain why. His fingers twitch in Richie’s tight grip, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.

.

“Of course I did,” Richie says absently.

They watch the final scenes in stunned silence, and when the dust settles and the heroes have lost, Richie lets go of Eddie’s hand as he promised he would after the horrors finished.

.

It isn’t until the credits start rolling and Richie releases him that Eddie realizes they’d been holding hands for at least twenty minutes. He’s so shocked by the way the movie ended that he hadn’t thought to pull away himself, and only tears his gaze away from the movie screen when he feels that sudden, physical loss. For a moment, he leaves his hand on the armrest, as if he’s waiting for Richie to come back to him, but that feeling passes when the lights in the room start to brighten.  
  
Inhaling deeply, he runs both of his hands down his thighs and drops his shoulders before looking at Richie again. “… Wow. Um… that was… a lot.”

.

Richie nods his head, completely understanding Eddie’s shocked reaction. “It is both the best movie ever made and the  _worst_ movie ever made.”

.

“So… what now?” Eddie asks, leaning back in his chair and staring at Richie’s face. He chews his lip again when he realizes that might sound like an invitation to continue their little ‘hang out’ elsewhere, which could be construed to mean  _any number_  of things, so he quickly thinks of something to add. “I mean, is there one of those post-credit scenes, or something? Should we wait?”

.

“There most certainly is,” Richie says.

They sit and watch the final scene, and the pager with a superhero’s symbol is the last thing on screen before it goes dark. “Basically, Captain Marvel is our last hope. Bless her heart.”

.

“I can’t believe they would just end the movie like that,” Eddie says, still baffled that the good vs. evil trope did not play out the way it’s supposed to. 

.

“I KNOW!” Richie replies. “It’s so bizarre. It doesn’t follow any of the normal movie formats with three fucking acts. It is just one whole second act. Now we have to wait half a YEAR!”  
  
.

"Half isn’t so bad,” Eddie says with a shrug. “People have waited a lot longer for a lot less.”

.

Richie turns his face in Eddie’s direction. His eyes are steady, holding his gaze. “You waiting for something in life, Eddie?”

.

Eddie laughs openly. “It’s not quite that serious. I was thinking of the people who have waited like seven years for the next  _Game of Thrones_  book, but sure, yeah, we’re all waiting for  _something_  I guess.”

.

Richie hums to himself, watching Eddie a bit longer. Suddenly, he hops to his feet with no warning. “Well,  _shall_  we head back?”

.

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie stands, picking up his trash and making sure he has his wallet, inhaler, and student ID still in his pocket. “Ready when you are.”

.

As they walk out of the theater, their arms lightly bump each other. Richie has goosebumps that he knows are not from the warm, humid summer air. He takes out his cell and sees a text from Patty about the cast list. “Oh shit! The cast list for the musical is up.”

.

Having forgotten that they caught an early showing, Eddie is not expecting the bright evening sunlight in his eyes as they exit the theatre. “Jesus, fuck,” he groans, and then looks at Richie. “Oh? Did you get a role?”

.

“I don’t know. The girl I auditioned with is too scared to check her email.” They get into the car and Richie texts Patty back. He hovers his finger over his email app, then glances at Eddie. “I’m nervous to look.”

.

Sitting in the passenger seat now, Eddie looks down at Richie’s phone and then back up to his face. “Don’t be nervous, I’m sure you’re in,” he says surely, surprised by how confident he feels about it. He has no fucking clue whether or not Richie can actually act, but for some reason he just implicitly trusts that Richie can do anything. “You have to be.”

.

“Okay. Okay, let me check.” Richie swipes through his email until he sees the unread one which contains the cast list. He clicks, scans, and looks back up at Eddie as a huge smile spreads across his fast.   
  
“I DID IT! I’m the lead actor! Look!” Richie shoves the phone in Eddie’s face but brings it back too quickly for him to have actually read it. “Wow, this is shaping up to be the  _best_  fucking year.”

.

“Really? That’s amazing, Richie!” Eddie says, mirroring Richie’s infectious grin. For a moment, he looks and sounds like a kid again, all wide-eyed, unconditional enthusiasm. On reflex, he puts a hand on Richie’s forearm and squeezes just a bit, before catching himself and pulling away. He clears his throat, his demeanor returning to something more reserved, and laughs a little at his own exuberance. “I mean, of course you got a part, but it’s amazing that it’s a big one, especially since you’re new. You must be really good.”

.

Richie misses the warmth of Eddie’s encouraging touch immediately, but thinks it must be hard for him to show any affection toward others. This brings an unfortunate reminder of how his own parents are with him. “Thanks,” he says thinly, then plugs in his cell to play music on their drive back to campus.

.

Eddie is quiet on the way back, thinking that perhaps he’d done something wrong, given how quickly Richie’s enthusiasm fell away.  _‘Did I say too much? Not enough?’_ he thinks anxiously.

.

Richie knows that he had ruined the mood entirely, not that he understood what the mood of tonight was  _supposed_  to be. The movie was great, but he’s left with more confusion than confirmation on anything. The whole drive back, he tries to just sing along to music and act like nothing’s wrong. Except, he has a feeling Eddie can tell he isn’t being genuine, judging by his silence. It puts Richie on edge.

.  
  
Eddie doesn’t bring up his worry, of course, and stays lost in his own thoughts. When they arrive back to campus, he half expects Richie to part ways with him as soon as they’re out of the car. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he stays by Eddie’s side until they get to his dorm room.

“This is me,” he says, stopping in front of the door.

.  
  
Richie automatically follows Eddie, wanting to walk him to his door. “Oh cool,” he says awkwardly. He forces on a too-big smile. “I’m down the hall on this floor.”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the next.  _‘Why are you staying here? Just say goodnight and leave,’_  he thinks, but doesn’t say anything more. He just stares off to the side.

.

Eddie shifts from one foot to the other as well, room key in hand. He’s not sure what Richie is waiting for, nor is he sure what he  _himself_ wants to do. This isn’t exactly a  _date_ , really, so what’s supposed to happen now? He looks up and catches Richie’s eyes, acutely aware of their proximity.  
  
“Well…” he starts, then trails off. He doesn’t realize he’s reaching up until his free hand is halfway to Richie’s face, then he stops short, unsure of what he had even been trying to do. A kiss is out of the question, and even a peck on the cheek might be too much. Every signal is the wrong signal to send right now, because he has no idea what signal he even  _wants_  to send.  
  
He pauses for half a second before dropping his gaze and simply brushing his fingers over a wrinkle in Richie’s t-shirt, just below his collarbone, then letting his hand fall away.  _‘This is hardly romantic, right?’_  he tells himself.  _‘Just a movie with a new friend, nothing more.’_

But then, if it isn’t anything at all, this moment right now shouldn’t feel so intimate, and yet…

.

Richie stays very still when Eddie’s hand starts to reach toward his face. He clearly switches tactics halfway, as he lightly touches Richie’s shirt instead, making him gulp and think,  _‘cute_.’ He can barely contain himself from pulling Eddie into him and initiating more contact.

.  
  
With butterflies in his stomach, Eddie quickly turns and unlocks his room, suddenly anxious to get out of this situation. However, as he opens the door, he is unable to stop himself from turning back to Richie and meeting his eyes one more time.

“I’ll um, see you around,” he says with a small, nervous smile, before slipping inside and closing the door behind him.

.  
  
As Eddie closes his door, Richie lets out a breath. He has no idea how long he was holding it, but his head feels light and dizzy. The wise action would be to move away from the door, if only to look less like a creeper. So he goes through the motions of forcing his feet to walk away, even if  _every fiber of his being_  wants to pound on the door and ask Eddie,  _‘What the actual fuck?’_  
  
He takes out his phone to text Patty about the casting for a distraction, but it feels like someone stomped on his stomach. How can a person he barely _knows_  make him feel so horrible? Richie shouldn’t care.

In fact, he doesn’t care. He  _wouldn’t_ care.  
  
Eddie’s not interested. That was made perfectly clear.

Something about that thought feels wrong and leaves Richie feeling nauseous, but he pushes all this down, deep into a compartmentalized box.  
  
He forces everything to be replaced with an appreciation for how their hangout went. It was a fun, friendship building time. Friendship isn’t a bad thing, but Richie still worries that the box will try to open again at any minute.  
  
Then he stops suddenly, glancing down the hall to where Eddie’s door is.

Although… the challenge _is_  half the fun. Perhaps Richie needs to discover a new, more exciting strategy to catch Eddie’s interest.

Yeah. He isn’t giving up quite yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> 


	12. First Meetings: Richie & Beverly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Bev meet for the first time while in line for coffee, and the friendship vibes are instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Friday, 08/31, morning; Cafe on Campus**

Richie needs to get coffee  _immediately_. If he doesn’t, he will probably get too stir crazy in his next class. For some reason, coffee has the opposite effect on him than most people; he can mellow out a bit and focus a little better. He is the teacher’s assistant for Advanced Harmony I. He knows he will drive the professor crazy if he cannot chill and properly assist, and he doesn’t need to be kicked off any TA gigs… again.

Although Eddie gave him a coffee that morning, it got cold before he could really drink it. He looks at his phone sort of hoping he will see a text from him, but they just left each other, so he probably will not message until later when he’s bored in one of his classes.  
  
He looks up ahead to see a small coffee stand. BLESSED BE! There is a girl whose hair is flaming red in the bright sunshine ordering something, and his mind thinks back to a girl he once knew with hair just as captivating. The thought goes away as he looks at his phone again to see the time. He is supposed to be at the classroom now.  _SHIT._

.

Was Bev  _allowed_  to leave Music Theory early? Probably not. Did she do it anyway? Of course.

 _‘It was the last fifteen minutes of class, was there anything else left to learn anyways?’_  she thinks. Sure it  _was_  her only class of the day, but she wasn’t into the topic as much as she would’ve hoped. Come to think about it, none of the classes she had gone to this week had reached her expectations, and she isn’t quite sure why.  
  
Today she’s blaming it on the fact that she slept in by accident and didn’t have much time to get ready or even eat breakfast, which is what prompts her to go over to the campus café to grab whatever it offered just so she could finally satisfy her hunger. The line is particularly long today for some reason; maybe they are doing employee training today, who knows? Whatever it is, it causes Bev to wait in line for a length of time that feels longer than the class she just left, so she feels blessed once she reaches the counter to order a coffee and a chocolate chip muffin.

.

Richie runs up behind the girl, takes ahold of her hand, spins her around quickly practically slamming her into his chest, and says, “Sorry! I need coffee before my next class.” Then he spins her back out a foot away, carefully.  
  
“Hey coffee lad, I need to steal whatever she just ordered. And here is an extra $20 for anything she wants to use it for.” The tired college student looks awkwardly between Richie and the girl, trying to decide what to do. “ _Dude!_ Before I turn grey!”

.

For a fleeting moment, Beverly is brought into a cheerful deja vu. The spinning feels so familiar, it sends her back to a time in her youth when everything was all fun and games. She briefly forgets where she is, but is swayed back to reality once she composes herself and can fully comprehend what just happened. She nods her head to the cashier, indicating that it was alright.

She recognizes the guy as the TA for her Advanced Harmony course, who Bev swears she’d seen somewhere else before. She kept pondering about it during the two classes she’d had with him this week, and unfortunately trying to refresh her memory took up more of her time than actually paying attention to the class.

“You’re the TA in Advanced Harmony. I’m in that class actually. I’m Beverly Marsh.”

.

Richie looks into her grey-green eyes and shoots her a huge smile. He recognizes her, but wonders if he knew her before this week. He shakes the thought away and puts his hand out to shake hers. “Of course! Nice to meet you, Bev. I’m Richie. I’m so,  _so_  sorry to take your coffee. I’m supposed to be early to our class but of course am failing at that today.”

.

Beverly shakes his hand. “It’s alright, nice to meet you though. Had you spun me one more time I would’ve been convinced we were dance partners.” She lets out a quick laugh. “You’re going today? Is it to help the professor with some extra work or something?”

.

“Be my dance partner any day, please!” Richie grins toothily at her. “And we have class today!” He pauses. “Don’t we?”

.

Bev playfully rolls her eyes and a genuine grin shines on her face. She hadn’t smiled like that with anyone other than Patty or her aunt in quite a while. “No, I’m pretty sure we don’t have class today.” She takes her phone real quick to check the date. “It’s Friday. I only have one class on Fridays and it definitely isn’t Advanced Harmony.” She places her phone in her back pocket.

.

“Shit… I’m so stupid.” Richie hits his forehead with exasperation. “I’ve been running around like an asshole thinking I had it today.” The man hands him the coffee, which he immediately presents to Beverly like a lady would give a knight her favor.   
  
“Sorry for hijacking your coffee, my hero. Please let this be on me. And whatever food you want. It’s the least I can do.”

.

“Don’t hurt yourself over it, it’s just a slight mix up. Could’ve happened to anyone.” Beverly looks at Richie in his grand pose and also catches glances of the other students in line witnessing the same thing. All of them are probably thinking the same thing:  _'Is this guy for real?’_

“Thanks.” She simply asks the cashier for a muffin and a croissant for Patty because she knows her roommate just got out of class as well. “So I guess I’ll see you on Monday, right? Which _is_ when we have class, by the way,” she teases.

.

Richie straightens up. “My knight is always looking out for me.” He tells the coffee guy he wants a bagel and smoothie.

“Since I don’t have to focus for another hour and a half, screw coffee. How has this first week been treating you?”

.

“It has been…” Beverly is almost about to reveal what she  _actually_  feels, as if she’s known him for longer than a couple of days, but she figures Richie probably doesn’t care enough to know about her slight dilemma. “Good, could’ve gone better but I’m not sweating over it. What about you? How long have you been at UMaine?”

.

“Well, next week is a new week for potential in betterment!” Richie says, trying to reassure her. “I just transferred this year as a Junior. I was hoping to leave Maine, but I go to school basically for free with my grades and parents’ help, so I cannot complain. What about you? What year are you?”

.

Bev nods her head at his words, trying to keep them in mind for next week. “Me too! I’m a Junior  _and_  a transfer! I transferred from Oberlin to be closer to my aunt. I started off my music major there, so now i’m finishing it off here. What are you majoring in? Music?”

.

“ _Another_ transfer! I swear we’re the only students at this school. And Theatre and Business, actually. One of my minors is music, but I basically finished all the requirements, so I TA for extra money.”

The coffee guy hands him all their food and Richie’s drink. “I guess I should head back to my dorm. Maybe smoke a bit before my next class. Are you in York Hall?”  
.

Beverly is impressed by how much work he’s doing, and her interest is piqued when he mentions being a Theatre major. She’s only majoring in Music and  _already_  she thinks her classes are a lot.

“Yep, York Hall.” Bev grabs her items from the cashier and moves aside so the the next customers can order. “I’m gonna head over there right now actually. Is that where you’re going? We could walk together.”

.

“Yeah!” Richie says. They start walking on the sidewalk toward their building and talk for a bit about classes and professors. Richie feels immediately comfortable around Beverly, as if he knows her from a different lifetime. There is just  _something_  about her. She seems like an old soul, and there is a defiant strength in her eyes, like perhaps the past hasn’t been so kind to her. It brings up this internal fuel to protect her, even though he can tell  _she_  would be more likely to protect  _him_  from harm.

At some point along the way, she makes a joke that has him in stitches. “Oh my God, I swear I feel like I’ve known you forever! It’s so fucking weird.”  
.

To Bev, being around Richie feels like having a non-malicious brain freeze, or a tickle underneath her skull that she can’t quite scratch away. She realizes she had a similar feeling with the guy who almost ran her over earlier in the week, and wonders if maybe she should go get that checked out by a doctor. “Yeah I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before I just can’t put my finger on it. Where did you go to high school?”

.

“Portland High School,” Richie says automatically.

.

“Oh shit, you lived in Portland? So did I!” Bev exclaims. “Well I went to Portland Arts & Technology, so maybe I just saw you around town.”

.

Hearing this, Richie remembers the other school that had been blocked out for so long. He almost doesn’t want to say it, but his lack of filter wins out. “I also went to Derry High School. Worst town ever.”

.

At just the mention of Derry, flashes of the town scenery pass through Bev’s mind, almost like a rapid-fire slideshow. She quickly connects the dots and realizes Derry is the title of the nameless town she grew up in, and the unnecessary mystery has been solved. “God, I haven’t heard that name in years… Derry…” she repeats, getting reacquainted with the name. “I grew up there.”

.

“Well, I bet we did see each other at some point in Portland… or maybe we played together as kids in Derry. Small fucking world.” Richie pressures himself to stay normal as he thinks back to when he saw the back of Beverly’s head, how the red hair reminded him of someone he can barely remember.

.

“Oh, no I doubt it. I didn’t really have friends as a kid, or any that I can remember, anyways. And you seem pretty unforgettable.”

Once they reach the entrance of their dorm building, Bev holds the door open for them and from there they head off to the staircase. She slips one backpack strap off her shoulder so she has easier access to the front pocket of her bag, which is where she keeps her keys. “Well, it was really nice meeting you, Richie.”

.

“It was nice to meet you too!” Richie replies. “Don’t know if you smoke at all, but if you see me by the entrance smoking you can always bum a cigarette off of me. And I usually have weed too, if that’s your preference. Not that I’m saying you look like a smoker, just thinking we might be kindred spirits.”  
.

“I believe that statement might be true, and I’ll have to take you up on  _both_  of those offers one day. But for now, goodbye Richie,” Bev says. “See you in class on Monday!”

Then she waves at him, before strolling down the hallway to her dorm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Beverly - [ao3: bcnvcrly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcnvcrly); [tumblr: bcnvcrly](https://bcnvcrly.tumblr.com)  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> 


	13. First Meetings: Richie & Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie attempts to exercise and fails, and Ben is Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Friday, 08/31, late afternoon; Campus Fitness Center**

The end of the first week of school is supposed to be carefree, but Ben Hanscom is feeling anything but that. At the end of his last class he surprises himself by feeling completely overwhelmed, even though the day itself had been peaceful. He figures it’s because of the new environment, or maybe because of that strange sensation haunting him since the day he arrived. Whatever the reason, Ben knows the best thing to do is to attack the stress as soon as possible before it gets worse. 

After going to his dorm room to change his casual clothes for ones that are more appropriate, he walks towards the gym and goes straight to the treadmill, where he spends a few minutes jogging casually, increasing the velocity little by little.

.

Richie begrudgingly drags his feet along the sidewalk. He is about to do his least favorite activity in the world: WORKOUT. During his first year of college, he realized it was going to be impossible to eat whatever he wanted and maintain an ‘entertainer’s’ body without exercise. If he had it his way, he would never set foot on a treadmill or touch weights. He  _hates_  running, probably because of his smokers lungs. And his arms have always been thin and too lanky to lift the bigger weights well.

Not to mention it is the most boring activity in the world to work out and  _not_  engage in speaking to others.

Still, he scans his student card and steps into the room. There are other students working out on various machines, and he spots a good looking guy on one of the treadmills, the kind of guy every movie ingenue falls in love with on the spot. He is keeping up a pretty fast pace and Richie really does not want to workout next to someone who will probably judge his slow running, but it’s the only free spot. He sucks in a deep breath, deciding to go for it. He nods kindly to the guy then steps on the treadmill, puts his headphones in to blast Metallica, and sets the machine to a slow pace.

.

Ben nods back, smiling a little, and then focuses back on his own pace. He glances over a few times, wondering if he should engage in a conversation, but then he notices the music coming from the guy’s headphones, so he desists.

.

Less than a minute into walking on the machine and Richie is already miserable. He decides to speed it up a little, getting himself to a jog. The burn of going too fast is already killing his lungs and legs. He looks over at the speed on the guy next to him and frowns.

 _He_  could go that fast too, if he wanted. That impulsive competitive nature inside him is yelling to go for it, so he raises the speed up higher, his legs barely keeping up.

.

Ben keeps looking at him every once in a while, curious, confused, and increasingly concerned. It seems to him the guy’s about to trip and fall, but he looks so determined to keep going that Ben’s too afraid to interfere. _'Come on, you can do it,’_  he thinks to himself, silently encouraging him, and speeds up his own treadmill a little bit more.

.

Richie sees the guy speed up his treadmill.  _WOW. COOL, DUDE._ Well,  _Richie_  will just have to up  _his_  speed too. He pushes the button and plants his hands on the treadmill safety bars.

“Shit,” he says, only feeling pain as his legs threaten to give out any second.

.

Ben is now officially alarmed. Is this guy competing against him? He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it right away. Then he reaches out his hand towards the controls to decrease the speed, but he stops himself in the middle and tries to mask the movement, scratching his head instead.

He doesn’t want to make this strong-willed fella feel somehow underestimated - he actually admires him a little - but he  _also_  doesn’t want him to die. Would it be rude to tell him not to overwork himself? The worry that this poor guy could very well drop dead any second now right there next to him is starting to make Ben feel uneasy, so he tries his best to remember all he knows about first aid in case of fainting.

When he looks at him again, he notices the guy isn’t even wearing his safety key. Ben closes his eyes and sighs. “Hey?” he says, unsure and wary, but his voice is probably too low to hear.

.

Richie gets distracted by the guy speaking and turns to answer him, slowing down for a second. Then he witnesses his own mistake as if in slow motion. His leg gets caught in the momentum of slowing down. His hands slip off the bars. He tries to catch up with himself but he ends up eating it. His ass hits the walking belt, which slides him off of the machine entirely. He is then sprawled on the ground, arms and legs stretched out, treadmill still moving in front of him.

Everything hurts so badly that he is pretty sure it will take a couple minutes to get up. He blinks a couple times and realizes everything is blurry. “Fuck,” he moans. “Where the fuck are my glasses?”

.

Everything unfolds like a scene from a movie in front of Ben’s eyes, making his jaw drop. “Shit.” He quickly grabs the water bottle he had on the tray, stops both treadmills, and jumps off to help the guy. The guy doesn’t look like he’s going to get up right now, so he kneels beside him and offers him some water.

“Sorry about that.” Ben blinks for a moment. “I don’t know where your glasses are.” He looks around.

.

“This is where I die of humiliation. I always knew this day would come.” Richie brings the bottle of water that was thrust into his hand to his forehead dramatically. “Could you potentially find them? As I can literally see nothing. You are but a sexy blur, good sir.”

.

Ben nods, trying his best not to laugh at the words 'sexy blur,’ but smiling a little anyway. He stands up, and a few feet away he spots a pair of glasses on the floor, completely unharmed (to Ben’s relief). When he goes to get them he catches a few people looking at the guy who just fell. He frowns.

“Nothing to see here.” The words come out of his mouth in a hoarse voice, which surprises him. He clears his throat and goes back over, handing him the glasses. “Here you go.” He smiles nervously. “Sorry I distracted you…”

.

Richie shoves the glasses on his face. “All good, bro. That’s what I get for trying to run when I haven’t in months.” He rises slowly into a sitting position and a shooting pain vibrates to his tailbone. “Fuck, my ass is on fire and not in a good way.”

.

Ben grimaces, imagining the pain he must be feeling, but when he speaks he can’t help but laugh. He’s kneeling again in the same spot, looking at him with eyes wide open, amazed. “I’m - sorry. Wow. Well, that can’t be good.”

.

One of the student gym attendants has finally seen fit to come over and check on Richie. She asks if he needs an ambulance or to be taken to the health center. “Nope. Only things in pain are my ego and my pride. But I wouldn’t mind this guy carrying me out of the building… what’s your name?”

.

“Are you sure?” Ben asks, thinking he really could use some professional help, but his words make him smile and look down in embarrassment for a second. He quickly looks back up. “Ben. What’s yours?” He extends his hand to him, with a gentle smile still on his face.

.

Richie brings his hand up to shake. “How ya doin, Benny Boy? Richie Tozier is my name, eating floor shit is my game.”   
  
Just before they shake hands, Richie brings it back in a fake out. Ben looks confused, so Richie relents and shakes his hand properly.

.

Ben blinks and stares. For a second he can feel his heart drop, as if he were thrown down a rabbit hole with nowhere to hang onto except for Richie’s hand.

“My name’s Ben Hanscom, if…”  _'You’re interested.’_  He stops himself mid-sentence. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear this had already happened once. He shakes his head and smiles. “Wait, I already told you my name. I’m doing okay. Nice to meet you, Richie.”

He examines Richie’s face a little bit more, not yet letting go of that sense of familiarity. “How are you feeling? Do you think you’re ready to stand up now?”

.

“Um… yeah. Mind helping me a bit?” Richie puts his arm behind Ben’s shoulders so he can help lift him up. “Bet you could lift three of me.”

.

“Of course.” Ben helps him up easily and smiles. Because he’s still not sure if Richie’s legs will able to support his own body in his current state, he keeps helping him in the same position for as long as he needs. “It’s not so much.”

.

Richie walks, with Ben’s help, out of the fitness center, where he sits on a bench and inspects the damage. “Annnd I’m bleeding. Fuck.” He pinches the skin on his thigh where there is a gash from his fall. Blood trickles down his leg, making it look a lot worse than it feels. “I guess I should go to the health center after all.”

.

“Oh, man.” Ben lets Richie sit while he stands in front of him to observe his wound and the blood pouring out of it, wondering how it happened. He sucks in his lips. “Yeah, I guess you should.” He looks at him, scratching the top of his head, and finally nods. “Yeah. Come on, I’ll take you.”

Ben helps him up again and walks them towards his car in the parking lot, which is a closer walk than the health center. With some difficulty because he’s still holding Richie up, he opens the passenger seat door and lets him in. “Okay, I’ll go get my stuff. Did you leave anything inside I should get, too?”

.

“I did not, dear Benny Boy.” Richie grins at the guy thinking how foolish he had been earlier. “You are a lifesaver.”

.

“No problem, Richie.” Ben closes the door and goes back to get his belongings, quickly changing into the set of clothes he brought with him. A couple of minutes later, he’s sitting in the driver’s seat next to Richie, heading to the health center.

.

Richie stares at Ben’s ensemble as they drive. He has on a brown leather jacket, white t-shirt, worn out jeans,  _a cowboy belt_ , and a hideous pair of brown dickie boots. “Clint Eastwood! Huge fan of your westerns, sir!” he jokes.  
  
They get to the health center in no time. “Well! Thanks for the ride. See ya around.” Richie goes to get out of the car, taking his time as everything is extremely sore. “Feels like a piano was dropped on me.”

.

Ben looks at him and gives him a confused smile. “That’s okay, I’m going in with you,” he says nonchalantly, and gets out of the car to help Richie if needed.

.

Richie stares in bewilderment at Ben as he grabs his arm and assists him out of the car. This guy is being _far_  too nice, and it brings a comfort that Richie rarely feels. However, he doesn’t want Ben to feel obligated to worry about him. “Oh precious Ben. No need to worry about little ol’ me. Go back to the gym and work on those bulging muscles. How much can you bench? I bet it’s a lot. I can’t lift for shit. Noodle arms and such.”

He is so busy with his stream of verbal consciousness while they walk into the center that Richie doesn’t even realize they are at the sign-in station until the receptionist gives him a clipboard with a form. “Okay, I can take it from here,” he says to Ben quickly. Except now that he is here, a part of him doesn’t want to be alone. He trains his face to give an appreciative smile to Ben. “I’m sure you have more important things to do than help this invalid.”

.

Ben listens to Richie all the way to the station, amused by his way of speaking. It doesn’t bother him, though. In fact, if he didn’t know this guy is a stranger, he would say it makes him feel at home. It’s the same feeling he has with his roommate, and that guy from the cafe the other day. Even the girl from the parking lot (and just the thought of her and that unfortunate situation make his cheeks blush a little).

“Oh, I really don’t.” He smiles. “Besides, I feel partly responsible. I’d like to make sure you’re alright, that’s all.” A small silence. “If that’s okay with you.”

.

“Well, if you can’t  _bear_  to part with me, then who am I to stop you from sticking around?” They take a seat in the waiting room, Richie filling out the paperwork quickly. “Tell me a story, Benny.”

.

Ben sits and looks at him, not sure if he should be feeling suspicious. “A story? What kind of story?”

.

Richie keeps his eyes on the form as he answers Ben, “Could be anything. The plot to your favorite movie, a weird happenstance that occurred this week, the story of your conception, whatever pleases you to share.”

.

Ben squints at him. Since the moment they first talked, for some reason he felt he could trust Richie, but he’s just starting to remember that he doesn’t even know him. He’s just some tall stranger that fell in the gym. Still, after inspecting him for a moment, he decides to speak.

“Well. I guess I could tell you a story, alright.” He sighs and stares at the wall, trying to come up with something. “A story, a story…” Ben considers talking about his favorite movie, but who doesn’t know the plot of Star Wars in this day and age? He purses his lips and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. A weird  _happenstance?_  Oh, yeah. He’d had a few of those, alright.

“The other day I ran into a guy who spilled his coffee on me,” he says and shrugs, turning his face back to Richie again. “I didn’t have time to go change so I had to wear my jacket zipped for the entire class, sweating like crazy.” He laughs a little.

.

Richie immediately thinks about how Eddie had a coffee incident recently, and this makes him size up Ben a moment. There is a secret nagging in the back of his head wishing that whoever Eddie bumped into was  _not_ this guy.

“That sucks. Hopefully it was nice smelling coffee. Otherwise that would be extra sucky.” Richie finishes the paperwork and hands it to Ben, who brings it up to the receptionist automatically. “If you ran into him, did you buy another coffee for him?”

.

“Yeah. I mean we both kinda bumped into each other. I was entering the library cafe and he was heading out, but yeah, I got him another one of the cold ones,” he says as he sits next to Richie again. “He was nice. And, uh, I didn’t notice the smell, but I hope it was a good one now that you mention it.”

.

Richie eyes Ben, already hoping he knows the answer to his current thought, but decides to be blunt about it anyway. “If you’re gay then that’s a nice meet-cute. But if you’re straight, then you are nice as fuck.”

.

The bluntness makes Ben raise his eyebrows and chuckle. “Well, thank you,” he says. “No, meet-cutes don’t happen to me, I think.” He’s joking, but he’s also sort of serious about it. The image of the redheaded girl in his mind sends shivers down his spine, but Ben’s really starting to believe that he’s just meant to be alone.

.

Finally, Richie’s name is called. When he gets up, Ben is immediately ready to help him, but he waves him off as he limps a bit. He follows the nurse into the back where she asks what happened, checks his reflexes, and cleans up the wound then slaps on a big bandaid. She gives him ibuprofen and extra bandaids, telling him to clean it well and it won’t become a scar.

When he asks, ‘What if I  _want_  a battle wound scar?’ she sends him back into the waiting room. Richie sees that Ben is still there, reading something on his phone. “I’m surprised I haven’t scared you off yet, Benny Boy!”

.

Ben looks up from his snake game and stands up, looking at the bandaid on Richie’s leg. “Hey, how did it go? Are you okay?” He wonders if it’d been weird of him to stay, but he just wanted to make sure Richie was fine. Or maybe he really just he wanted to stay a little longer. He puts his phone back into his pocket.

.

“Doc says I may never walk again,” Richie says dramatically. “You’ll have to carry me home, soldier boy.”

.

Ben shakes his head, smiling, and gestures to Richie’s legs. “ _This_  must be a miracle then.” He walks towards him. “Come on, let’s go to the car and you can tell me where your dorm is.”

.

Richie laughs heartily. They go back to the car, the soreness ebbing away with the ibuprofen he was given. On the way, Richie learns Ben lives in the same hall  _and_ on the same floor as him. “I’ll have to come bother you then!”

.

“Sure!” Ben grins. “And if you fall again you’ll know where to find me.” He surprises himself by joking along, and it makes him feel nervous for a second, but then decides it’s okay to do it with Richie. The fact that they live in the same floor reminds him of his conversation with the guy at the library cafe. “Wait, are you a transfer student?”

.

“I am!” Richie answers. “Transferred from one Maine school to another because I cannot escape this hell state to save my life.” They arrive at the dorm and park.

.

Ben whistles. “The transfer sixth sense,” he whispers to himself as they exit the car. “Yeah, I also transferred. From Cali.”

.

Richie switches into a slow speaking surfer voice, “That’s totally like _tubular_  dude. I bet you rode some dank waves.”

.

Ben’s caught off guard by Richie’s surfer voice and raises his eyebrows, then laughs. “Oh, I wasn’t a surfer.”

They talk more as they walk into the building, and Ben laughs again when they both stand between their doors. “I can’t believe I never saw you here before, we literally live one door away.”

.

“Oh fuck yeah, you’re Mike’s roommate! I can’t wait to bother you both!” Richie grins at him.

.

“Yeah, Mike’s my roommate. He’s cool.” Ben smiles, and opens the door to his room. “Well, Richie, hope it heals fast. See you around.” He waves at him.

.

“Thanks dude!” Richie watches Ben enter his room, then opens his own door, ready to rest and play video games all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Ben - [ao3: hanscomarsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanscomarsh); [tumblr: hanscomarsh](https://hanscomarsh.tumblr.com)  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> 


	14. Frat Party Part 1 - Arrival & Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie drunkenly checks to see if Eddie is going to the first big party of the semester, and Eddie drunkenly deflects some questions. After they, along with the other Losers, arrive at the aforementioned party, they all disperse. Mike gets a drink dumped on him, Ben gets hit in the face with a pong ball, and Richie and Eddie can’t help but gravitate to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**TEXTING - Saturday, 09/01, late evening**

**[Richie]**  
Hey Eddie!! How’s your Saturday?!

 **[Eddie]**  
good lol

 **[Richie]**  
Watcha doin?

 **[Eddie]**  
hmmm wouldn’t you like to know

 **[Richie]**  
Haha I would, hence why I ASKED

 **[Eddie]**  
rhetorical question

 **[Richie]**  
Damn, don’t want to tell me. That’s fine. _I’m_ pre-gaming before a party.

 **[Eddie]**  
oh  
that’s cool

 **[Richie]**  
You doin' something you shouldn’t be? Is that why you don’t wanna say?  

 **[Eddie]**  
technically, but so are you  
unless you’re 21  
i don’t think i’ve asked  
you could be 30 for all i know

 **[Richie]**  
You are drinkingggg! Yessss. I’m 20! I’ll be 21 in March.

 **[Eddie]**  
congrats!   
i will not be

 **[Richie]**  
How old are you…  
I’m gonna pray not under 18.

 **[Eddie]**  
i’m actually a 15 year old boy wonder super genius sorry 

 **[Richie]**  
And my worst nightmare comes to life.

 **[Eddie]**  
no, i’m really 19... 20 in november

 **[Richie]**  
Hahaha I figured.

 **[Eddie]**  
but now you’ll never know what to believe

 **[Richie]**  
Don’t do this to me Eddie.

 **[Eddie]**  
do what

 **[Richie]**  
TEASE ME

 **[Eddie]**  
i’m not  
i’m just talking  
i can stop tho

 **[Richie]**  
No! Always talk to meee

 **[Eddie]**  
hmm

 **[Richie]**  
Well, I texted to ask if you were going to any parties tonight?

 **[Eddie]**  
maybe  
hey what’s your favorite type of bird?

 **[Richie]**  
Toucan

 **[Eddie]**  
why

 **[Richie]**  
They have the coolest looking beaks

 **[Eddie]**  
i don’t believe you  
i think it’s bc it’s the froot loops mascot

 **[Richie]**  
…  
You caught me

 **[Eddie]**  
hahaha

 **[Richie]**  
I eat Froot Loops morning, noon, and night so it’s no surprise.

 **[Eddie]**  
you should probably not do that

 **[Richie]**  
I live on a diet of sugary food. Drives my dentist father crazy.

 **[Eddie]**  
i’m more worried about your vitamin intake than your teeth

 **[Richie]**  
Awwww you worry about me?

 **[Eddie]**  
keep your pants on, i’d worry about anyone who says they only ever eat cereal

 **[Richie]**  
Wow I feel so liked by you

 **[Eddie]**  
i didn’t say i  _don’t_  worry, just that it’s not _exclusive_ worrying

 **[Richie]**  
Got it  
You worry about many people

 **[Eddie]**  
i think most people do

 **[Richie]**  
Worrying about oneself is taxing enough, honestly

 **[Eddie]**  
you’re saying you don’t worry about people?

 **[Richie]**  
People don’t really worry about me, so I don’t worry about them  
Sorry I think I’m drunker than I thought. It’s not important.

 **[Eddie]**  
okay  
you don’t seem drunk

 **[Richie]**  
Callin’ me a liar?

 **[Eddie]**  
if deflecting counts as lying

 **[Richie]**  
I don’t lie

 **[Eddie]**  
that’s a dangerous thing to tell people

 **[Richie]**  
I’ve never seen the point in being anything other than completely honest  
So danger is what you’re gonna get

 **[Eddie]**  
interesting

 **[Richie]**  
That’s me!

 **[Eddie]**  
yeah, it is

 **[Richie]**  
So tell me something interesting about _you_

 **[Eddie]**  
i don’t think there is anything

 **[Richie]**  
Oh my god that is not true at all  
You have one of the quickest wits I’ve ever known and you’re going to actually say there is nothing interesting about you?  
Who’s the liar now?

 **[Eddie]**  
you can’t lie about something subjective

 **[Richie]**  
Has anyone ever actually told you you aren’t interesting?

 **[Eddie]**  
I don’t like to talk about myself that much, so maybe

 **[Richie]**  
Well how can anyone get to know the real you if you don’t talk about yourself?

 **[Eddie]**  
people are usually so interested in talking about themselves that they never even notice they don’t know a thing about me  
it’s better that way though

 **[Richie]**  
I’m interested in you Eddie. About the things you do and don’t want to talk about. So just know that, okay?

 **[Eddie]**  
okay…  
so, if your dad is a dentist that must mean you probably had braces or something right?

 **[Richie]**  
Ugh YES  
And I hated them  
He also always made me wear the fucking retainer. Like literally they are straight now so shut up dad

 **[Eddie]**  
were your teeth awful? or was it just a little gap or something

 **[Richie]**  
Kids used to call me Bucky Beaver. So I am gonna assume my teeth were shit

 **[Eddie]**  
awww  
that’s not very original  
i’ve definitely heard that one before

 **[Richie]**  
I find most people are not as original as they believe they are

 **[Eddie]**  
that’s probably true  
i never actually answered your question

 **[Richie]**  
You’ve avoided a multiple questions I’ve asked, but which one?

 **[Eddie]**  
haha, about if I’m going to any parties tonight

 **[Richie]**  
Are youuuu?

 **[Eddie]**  
i think i'm going to head over to that big frat party across campus soon

 **[Richie]**  
I’m going to that with my friends right now!

 **[Eddie]**  
hmm so i will see you there then

 **[Richie]**  
Can’t wait!

* * *

 

**Saturday, 09/01, night; Unspecified Frat House**

Richie, Bill, Beverly, and Patty walk over to the frat house along with some other students who are heading in the same direction. When they get there, the party is BUMPING with loud music and some LED lights shining on the enormous white house. Richie cannot help but smile at the chaos and laugh at how douchey the whole concept is. He hooks his arms with Patty and Beverly, dragging them in excitedly. **  
**

“Remember squad, _don’t_  drink anything you didn’t pour yourself,” he says as they beeline to the kitchen with Bill close behind them. Richie chats with a couple of the frat guys, quickly making them laugh, and they start giving out beers.

.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Bill says in a joking tone, grabbing the beer from Richie as Patty, Bev’s roommate, walks away. “Be safe out there!” he calls out to her retreating form, looking away after she waves behind her.

.

Richie shouts over the noise, "I want to dance!” He pulls Beverly into the living room. “Keep up, Big Bill!”

.

Bill follows them, beer in hand, ready to attempt to move his lanky body in a way that hopefully resembles dancing.

.

Richie shoves his way into the center of the room. He grabs Bev’s hands and spins her to force people to create an actual circle around them instead of a ton of bodies pushed up against each other. It works pretty well. “I hate this kind of techno music so at some point I will probably force them to change it.  Don’t try and stop me!” he shouts, releasing Bev to dance on her own.

Richie dances alongside Beverly and a reluctant Bill for a bit, then glances at his phone. “Oh my god, Bill, I didn’t tell you!” He shows the phone quickly to him then pulls it back before he can possibly see it for long. “Eddie is COMING!”

.

Beverly dances close by, almost in her own little world for a moment there while she enjoyed the beat, but quickly grows intrigued by what Richie said. “Who’s Eddie, Rich??”

.

“He’s the boy I’ve been having gay panics over.” Richie sighs. “Bill keeps having to deal with it.”

.

“Oh my god, tell me all about him!” Bev is super into hearing people gush about the people they like, and she  _especially_ wants to hear about the kid that is on Richie’s mind.

.

Richie gulps down the can of beer in his hand. He can already feel the alcohol going straight to his head, so he takes both of Beverly’s hands and performs a silly dance move. “He has the biggest and deepest brown eyes, that was the first thing I noticed about him. He doesn’t take shit from anyone, well at least not from me, so it’s refreshing. And he’s so  _cute_  I want to die.”

“Not sure if he is interested in being anything other than friends…” Richie admits. “But I can still think he’s cute.”

.

“I’m sure he’s interested, how could he _not_  be when he knows someone who looks so god-like,” Bill says sarcastically.

.

Richie clutches at his heart. “Wow… that was so gay. I’m touched.” He smiles. “What about you two? Anyone catch your fancy yet?”

.

Bev snorts at that question. “Nope, no one,” she says, though she’s blushing.

.

Richie catches her blush. “Bev, you’re holding out on us.”

.

“Nononononono, I’d rather  _not_  chill with the guy who gave me a near death experience. I mean, he  _was_  cute, but…” Bev shakes her head, trying to think of literally anything else. 

.

“What the fuck? Whose ass does Bill need to kick?” Richie asks with indignation. “I can’t do the ass kicking as violence ain’t my cup o’ tea.”

.

“I dunno some guy, kinda dresses like a cowboy. Almost ran me over in the parking lot,” Bev answers. “Not that big of a deal anymore, so no need for any ass kicking. If anything I’ll be doing that  _myself_.”

.

“Well, I don’t doubt that.” Richie grins at her with deep admiration. “Dresses like a cowboy, hmm? Well the only person I know with  _that_ description is Ben, and he saved me after I flew off a treadmill. Drove me to the health center and everything! So… probs not him.”

.

Bev is slightly impressed. “Sounds like a nice guy, maybe you should give me  _his_  number.”

.

“We are neighbors so once I get it, it’s yours!“ Richie says to her.

.

Around this time, Eddie arrives at the frat house after a somewhat sobering five minute walk, though he’s still rather tipsy from pre-gaming a bit to calm his nerves. The place is already crowded and very loud, so he has to push through some bodies on the porch and in the doorway just to get inside the house.

He immediately heads to the kitchen after asking where the drinks are set up, while keeping an eye out for Richie. He passes by the living room on his way, but doesn’t do anything more than quickly glance inside and move on.

.

Richie happens to look toward the living room entrance just as Eddie makes his brief appearance. He probably wouldn’t have seen him over the sea of people if it weren’t for his height advantage. "Oh shit! Guys! That’s him!” He points at the entrance then, without waiting for a reaction, immediately pushes through the crowd to follow him.

.

Eddie enters the kitchen and is immediately bombarded with a variety of drinks to choose from - bottled beer in a few varieties, beer from a keg, rum and coke, Southern Comfort with juice, or the most famously deceptive party drink: jungle juice. Eddie gets a cup of the blue jungle juice, then stays in the kitchen, hoping to see Richie soon - or _any_  familiar face, really.

.

Richie practically  _bounces_  into the kitchen and spots Eddie immediately. He almost goes directly over to him, but stops himself. Instead, he tosses out the beer can he’d finished, then goes over to the the hard liquors to make himself a coke and fireball concoction.

.

Upon seeing Richie enter the room, Eddie quickly looks away before they can make eye contact. He may be a little drunk already, but he's still well aware that he and Richie just had a pretty awkward text conversation. But he can’t just  _ignore_  that he’s there, because that would be weird. Right? So, cup of jungle juice in hand, he makes his way over to where Richie is mixing his own drink. “Hey, what’re you making?”

.

Richie glances down at Eddie and cannot help the big smile that spreads across his face. “Hey you! I’m just making a fireball and coke. My initial buzz is wearing off.” After Richie pours his drink he gives Eddie a quick hug, making sure not to linger.

.

Eddie laughs nervously and a little too loudly, caught off guard by the hug. “Hah, yeah, mine too. Kind of a long walk over here.” He takes a sip of his drink, looking up at Richie over the rim of his cup.

.

“Well, cheers gov’na!” Richie raises his cup to clink.

.

Eddie laughs again, a little more relaxed this time, and taps his cup against Richie’s before taking another big sip. “So umm, who’re you here with?”

.

“Big Bill and my classmate, Beverly. They’re dancing.” Richie downs half his drink. “What about your roomie? Where’s he at?”

.

Eddie’s stomach drops a little upon hearing a girl’s name, wondering immediately if Richie likes her. He drinks more. “He’s uh, I dunno, around somewhere? I don’t know if he came tonight. I don’t really know _what_  he does, in general.” 

.

“Did you want to dance with my friends?” Richie asks. “Or sit somewhere? Or see if there is a drinking game happening?”

.

Eddie lets out a dull laugh. “I am  _not_ drunk enough for dancing. But we could walk around… I’m sure there’s beer pong somewhere.”

.

“One does not need to be drunk to dance!” Richie gives him a fake hurt expression. “But yeah! Let’s go find a beer pong match, probably in the basement where they can make a mess.”

.

Eddie follows after Richie as he leads the way out of the kitchen, trying to keep as close as possible so they don’t get separated. He wants so badly to reach out and grab onto his arm as they make their way down to the basement, but he resists the urge.

.

While all this is going on, Mike and Ben take their time arriving the party. They shower and get properly dressed back at their room, then start heading in the direction of the Greek houses. A few minutes later, they are standing outside the house, looking first at it and then at each other.

Ben whistles, his hands in his pockets. “So, we’re here.”

.

 _‘Oh, wow.’_  Mike’s been dragged to some college parties before, but this one’s by  _far_  the most extra he’s ever witnessed. The music’s so loud that it’s already bothering him. There’s no _way_  he can do this sober.

“Uhm,” he says, managing to tear his eyes off the building and look at Ben. “ _Yeah_ , I’m just gonna go. Have fun, see you tomorrow, don’t die. Bye!”  And then he turns on his heel and attempts to escape.

.

Ben looks at Mike, surprised, and quickly grabs his arm before he can run away. “Hey, hey, hey! Come on,  _you_ brought me here, man, don’t walk away now.”

He puts himself behind Mike, holding both of his shoulders and guiding him forward. “At least let’s… see the inside of the house. Make the walking worth it, somehow. Then we’ll leave, okay? You know I’m not good at parties either.” He smiles a little nervously. He’s never that excited to join any crowded place, especially if it’s a frat house, but he also doesn’t see the point in leaving before even entering, though he’ll leave if Mike is really serious about it.

.

“Oh, lies, lies, lies,” Mike says, but he doesn’t resist as Ben literally shoves him towards the house. “You were just fine  _last_  Saturday. You stayed downstairs longer than I did. Don’t lie to me, Ben, I thought we were friends.”

.

"We  _are_  friends, Mike,” Ben replies as they reach the door. “And  _you_ didn’t tell me it was a frat house. I don’t…” He lets Mike go and scratches the back of his head, looking around. “I don’t have very good experiences with them. But we’re here already.” He shrugs. “Just thought we could grab a drink and go. Because it’s been a stressful week and all that, I dunno.”

.

Mike sighs. He brought Ben over, might as well give it a shot. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’m not ditching you. I’ll be cool.” And so they finally enter the house.

.

Ben and Mike head right to the living room, the noise becoming louder as people barely make way for them. When they’re inside, Ben leans closer to Mike and says, “Okay, in the kitchen there’re drinks, probably. You wanna go there?” 

.

“What? No, I’m good. I’ll be in the living room.” Mike gives Ben a thumbs up, then he walks further into the living room as Ben goes to the kitchen.

.

After a few minutes of dancing and nice chatter among friends, Richie leaves to ‘get another drink’, and Beverly spots a guy (slightly older, probably a senior) eyeing her from across the room. Of course, he feels it suitable to approach her only _after_ her friends leave. The guy only dances  _beside_  Bev for a while without saying anything, so she doesn’t mind it… but then the next song plays and the senior takes the opportunity to grab her waist.

Beverly turns around to give him a look of warning and moves closer to Bill for some sense of comfort. Although the guy doesn’t approach her again, he’s still in her vicinity which makes her uncomfortable, so she decides to go somewhere else for a while. The red cup in her hand isn’t entirely empty, but empty enough for a refill.

.

Mike walks onto the dance floor with the intent of maybe finding someone he knows in the crowd. He scans the room and notices Bill is there. With a sigh of relief, he starts making his way over to him, but then someone shoves him accidentally, causing him to bump into a short redheaded girl.

“Shit, sorry,” he says once he regains his balance. “You okay?”

.

At first Bev is convinced the guy that tried to grope her is following her, which is false since he moved onto the next girl he had his eyes on. However she doesn’t know that, and the boiling anger that he’d caused in Beverly reaches its peak when she assumes he’s trying to get her attention again. She quickly turns around and throws the remainder of her drink in his face, but before she can tell him to back off she realizes it isn’t the same guy.

“Oh my god! I’m soso _sososo_  sorry!”

.

Mike has no time to react before there’s jungle juice all over his face and shirt. He wipes his eyes and thanks his luck - at least he isn’t wearing his glasses. “Wow,” he says in a deadpan tone, but his annoyance goes away quickly once the girl starts apologizing.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he reassures her - she definitely looks like she’s had a couple drinks. “Are you okay?”

.

Bev looks around in her purse to find napkins or just about  _anything_  to clean up the mess she’s made, but there’s nothing, unless juice can be wiped up with three half empty packs of gum and a pack of cigs. “No, I-I’m sorry I really didn’t mean to do that, I thought you were someone else. Let’s get you to the bathroom to clean you up.”

.

“No, please, it’s - oh, okay.” Before Mike can argue further, this girl whose name he doesn’t even know is dragging him out of the living room and into the bathroom.

Once there, he splashes some water on his face. As he dries himself off with some paper towels, he turns to face the girl, who’s still looking distressed. “It’s okay, really you don’t need to do anything, uh… what’s your name?”

.

Bev can’t take her eyes off this guy, mainly because there is a faint memory coming up in her mind of someone who resembles him, but she isn’t quite sure who, and she doesn’t recall meeting this guy before today. She snaps out of her long gaze once he starts talking again.

“I got you and your shirt dirty I gotta do something, I could wash it for ya’, free of charge?” She’s not gonna let this T-shirt thing go so quickly. “Beverly Marsh. What’s yours?”

.

Upon hearing her name, the same weird feeling that’s been chasing Mike all week makes a return. He squints at her for a split second, but he doesn’t want to be rude and stare too much, so he’s quick to blame the music for giving him a headache. “Mike Hanlon. And we’re good, really.” He finally smiles at her. “No need for laundry. But if you know someone who can spare me a cigarette, I’d really appreciate it.”

.

The combination of hearing his name and seeing his smile brings warmth and comfort to Bev, so she smiles back at him. “Lucky for you I think I  _do_  know someone!” She picks up the pack from her purse and wags it around in her hand before motioning at Mike to follow her outside.

.

Meanwhile, Eddie and Richie are down in the basement where all of the drinking games are taking place. There are a few pong tables set up, though all currently occupied with matches in progress, so the two of them are just waiting their turn. He glances up at Richie and asks, “You’ve played this before I’m assuming?”

.

Richie keeps his eyes peeled for an opening as he says, “Dozens of times. I’m really fucking competitive, so I hope you brought your A game.”

.

“Are we competing against each other?” Eddie asks. “Or on the same side?”

.

Richie finishes off his drink with a bit of a face. “Same side of course! I wouldn’t want to play with anyone else. We gotta kick some frat boy ass.”

.

Eddie smiles at Richie’s ‘not anyone else’ bit, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to say. “Well, you gotta remember that these guys basically play for a  _living_  and we’re just the common folk. Don’t expect too much ass kicking on our end.”

.

“We can take ‘em,” Richie insists. “Just gotta channel our collective gay energy. Their straight white boy minds won’t know what hit ‘em.”

.

“Don’t make assumptions, Richie. Most guys who try to pick me up could pass for straight to the untrained eye.” Eddie smirks. “But I do hope you have some actual  _skill,_ rather than just relying on gay energy.”

.

“I do.” Richie finally makes eye contact with Eddie, having avoided it since they first connected for the night, and his stomach fills with a comfortable warmth. “And I’m feeling extra buzzed now, which means I’m more focused. Well, focused for me.”

.

“Same…” Eddie is caught up in meeting Richie’s gaze, so at first he doesn’t hear it when someone tells them it’s their turn. The guy speaking repeats himself, louder this time, which causes Eddie to tear his eyes away. “Oh, we’re up!”

.

Once Eddie’s eyes leave his, Richie remembers why they are down here. “Right! Let’s do it.” After being handed a couple of beers, he begins pouring them into the cups while Eddie sets up the triangle formation.

.

Eddie arranges the cups as perfectly as he can, lips pulled to the side in concentration. “I’m very good at this game, but I actually hate it when I stop to think about it - it’s so unsanitary,” he says, knowing he’s about to ramble, but it feels okay to do around Richie. “Like, what’s the water cup  _really_  going to do? Once  _one_ dirty floor ball gets rinsed in there, the water’s all germy anyway, and then the dirty ping pong balls end up in the beer cups, and then you’re stuck  _drinking_  dirty warm beer that has floor germs in it!”

.

As Richie listens to Eddie’s rantings, he’s reminded of someone, but he cannot quite remember who. His throat feels a bit dry, probably from all the drinking. “Part of the risk.”

Richie gives him a sneaky grin. “Could get any number of diseases from a game like this.”

.

“I’ll chance it,” Eddie says dramatically, then returns Richie’s grin. He flushes a bit when their eyes meet again, and he turns away, still smiling. “I um, think we’re just waiting on the other team.” He finishes off his cup of jungle juice.

.

Back upstairs, Ben looks around the kitchen and is already annoyed by all the douchebags around him, so he decides to focus on his one and only mission:  _find whiskey_. A careless guy shoves him on purpose for no other reason than to make some idiots laugh, which makes Ben almost ready to fight… but he refrains. There are too many people, and he just wants to chill in peace with a glass in his hand. It takes him a while to find what he wants, since there are so many options and so many people, but he finally does: a perfectly nice looking bottle in the corner of the table, waiting patiently for him.

He smiles, proud, and pours some of it into a clean cup. After that he goes back to the living room, but the crowd doesn’t let him find Mike among them.  _'Hope he didn’t leave,’_ Ben thinks as he mindlessly walks around, but he ends up giving up on the room pretty quick.

Then he walks down to the basement and looks around there, hoping to find Mike, but to his surprise he sees two other guys instead: Richie and Eddie, about to play beer pong at one of the tables. He’s so confused and amazed that they know each other, that he stands still for a couple of seconds. Then he moves near them and leans against a wall to watch them play silently, not wanting to distract them.  _‘The world is a strange, strange place.’_

.

“After you, wieners.” Richie smirks at the two frat boys who won the last match. One is big with blond hair and the other has a thin, rat-like face. “Show us what you got.”

.

Eddie laughs as the other team goes first, and of course they get their shots in, forcing both Richie and Eddie to drink. On the second attempt, only one ball makes it in and Eddie drinks.

“Alright let’s do this…” Now that it’s their turn, he moves slightly in front of Richie and takes a clean shot into one of the center cups on the other end of the table.

.

Richie leans down to say in Eddie’s ear, “Nice one!” He takes his turn to toss the ball and gets it into a back cup. “And  _that’s_  how it’s done.”

.

Eddie laughs as the opposing team tosses the balls back to them. He dunks them both in the water cup before handing one of them to Richie, their fingers brushing for a moment.

He takes his shot, leaning back into Richie just enough to feel him there. It isn’t until this moment that he decides he  _might_  be drunk, and thinks vaguely of his goal not to let Richie charm him, but… that doesn’t seem to matter now that he’s here.

“No,  _that’s_  how it’s done,” he says as his ball lands in the front center cup.

.

Ben is not able to hear their conversation, but he still cheers for them as he keeps an eye out for Mike. After a while, he takes out his phone to text him: ’ _Hey, where are you?_ ’

.

“Gonna have to teach me your ways, Eddie.” Richie’s face heats up a bit with Eddie’s proximity, or maybe it is the alcohol. He throws the next ball over Eddie’s head, leaning forward so Eddie’s back is flush against his chest.  _‘Definitely not just the alcohol,_ ’ he thinks as his face heats up more.

The ball goes in, but spins around the rim of the cup first, allowing the blonde guy to quickly finger it out and carelessly toss it aside.

“Hey! We didn’t say fingering or blowing rules were included!” Richie says angrily as the ball goes zooming toward the wall and right into another guy’s face.

.

Ben is suddenly surprised by a flying ball, which flies straight into his right eye. “Fuck!” He immediately brings his left hand to his face to cover his eye, but of course doesn’t let go of his cup of whiskey.

.

Eddie looks over when he hears someone shout, realizing the ball must have hit someone. Then, he notices a guy by the wall with one hand over his eye, and rushes over.

“Oh shit, are you alright?” He looks earnestly up at the guy, and after a moment he recognizes him as the guy he spilled coffee on a few days ago.  _‘What’s his name again?_ ’ “Oh - hi.”

.

Richie walks over, picks up the ping pong ball from the ground, then looks at the person it hit, who Eddie is checking on. “Howdy, Benny boy! You blind in one eye from that jackass’s cheatin’?”

.

Ben continues holding his hand over his eye for a moment while he looks at the cafeteria guy and then at his neighbor. “Hi.” he speaks softly to Eddie and waves at Richie, smiling. “Hey, Richie. Not blind yet, I think.”

He uncovers his eye and blinks a couple of times. “All good,” he says, forming an ‘o’ with his thumb and index finger. He notices people are watching but tries not to look embarrassed.

.

Eddie smiles but his brows knit together a little. “You know each other?” he asks, then puts a hand on Ben’s arm and turns to face Richie excitedly. “This is the guy I told you about! The one I spilled coffee on!”

.

Richie looks at Eddie, then at Ben, then at Eddie’s hand  _on_  Ben, and can’t help but frown a little. “Oh… yeah… Ben told me about that, too.” He shakes his head a little, then plasters on a smile. “Ben was my personal hero when I fell off a treadmill and cut my leg.”

.

“You guys know each other,” Ben says, smiling. “Small world.”

.

Eddie lets go of Ben. “Wait, how did you cut yourself on a  _treadmill??_ ”

.

“Oh y’know, being clumsy,” Richie answers. He puts his hand on Eddie’s elbow to lead him back to the table.

.

Eddie doesn’t move at first, but then the guys on the other team shout at them to ask if they’re coming back. “Um, Ben, why don’t you come stand with us and maybe play?”

.

Ben smiles at Eddie. “I think I’ll pass on playing, thank you, but I’ll stay here with you if that’s okay.”

.

Eddie nods and follows Richie back to the table. “Whose turn is it?”

.

“Well, it better be  _ours_  after that bullshit.” Richie directs the comment at the frat boys.

.

“I’m looking for someone, actually - Mike, my roommate. Richie, have you seen him around?” Ben asks.

.

“No,” Richie answers without looking away from the frat guys, who are both glaring at him for calling them out. “Oh no, you don’t  _get_  to be fucking mad when  _you_ didn’t say we could do fingering before the game! Didn’t your mother ever teach you etiquette, gentlemen? If you want to play with it now, fine. But  _we_  get an extra shot for the cheating!”

.

Eddie quickly touches Richie’s shoulder out of instinct and gives him a bit of a warning look, not wanting him to get them kicked out when they only  _just_  got here. Like in their first class together, he feels as though any trouble Richie gets into, he’ll be involved in by proxy.

.

Richie feels Eddie’s touch and rounds on him, frustration toward the other guys making his blood boil. Their eyes search each other’s for a second, something beyond words passing between them. Then, just like that, the tension lifts from his mind and body. “Sorry, let’s play.”

.

Ben watches this silent interaction and tilts his head a little. _‘Interesting…’_

.

“Cool, yeah,” Eddie says, face feeling a bit warm. One of the guys across the table reluctantly tosses him the other ball, and he rinses it before readying for their extra throw.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try, Ben? You can take my turn.” He holds his hand out, ready to give Ben the ping pong ball.

.

Richie sighs dramatically, wishing Eddie would focus on the game and not Ben. “Ben doesn’t want to play, Eddie. Just throw it,” he says impatiently. “You forget how to play already?”

.

Ben looks at Eddie, then at Richie, then back at Eddie. “No, it’s okay, you throw it. Maybe next time.”

.

Eddie glares at Richie, the fleeting moment of intimacy they had already a thing of the past. “I’m being  _nice_ because he just got hit in the eye! But  _fine._ ” He throws the thing, but now that he’s a little annoyed, he misses.

.

“Guess you did forget.” Richie is feeling extra flustered now. Whatever passed between them is too much to think about or handle for him, and his head and stomach are spinning. As he goes to throw his shot, he misses as well. “Fuck.”

.

“ _Now_ who forgot how to play?” Eddie watches the other team take their turn, naturally landing both shots because that’s just how the universe works. He grabs one of the cups, removes the ball, and chugs it, watching Richie over the plastic rim.

.

Richie takes the other cup and chugs it quickly, not breaking eye contact with Eddie.

.

“It’s okay, you still have chances, right?” Ben looks at them and laughs nervously. He checks his phone to see if Mike had answered yet. Nothing.

.

Eddie nods and starts restacking the cups, since they’ve lost a few. “Yeah, Ben’s right. And it’s fine, anyway, 'cause even if we lose we’re still winning, since we’ll drink more. It’s just a game.”

.

“Sure.” Richie nods. As the blond guy brings his arm back to throw, he says, “You’re so fake, _Barbie_  is jealous.” The guy flashes a glare at him and misses spectacularly.

.

Eddie is at first dumbfounded that Richie would start mocking this guy who may or may not be part of the frat, but then he decides he doesn’t care all that much after all. Something tells him to just follow Richie’s lead. A bit of trash talk never hurt anyone. Well, maybe it has - but whatever.

“Please, Richie, don’t insult Barbie like that.”

.

Ben is surprised by Richie and then by Eddie. He smiles because of the jokes, but then gives a quick look to the blonde guy, wondering if this is going to turn into a fight. He’s not looking forward to that.

.

Richie barks out a laugh as he picks up the ping pong ball.

The rat faced guy jumps in to defend his friend, “Surprised you can even see his looks with those giant glasses, four eyes.”   
  
“Well,  _Mr. Unoriginal_ , Eddie here has perfect vision. So I don’t really think I’m wrong in my assessment.” Richie clears his alcohol hazed mind and tosses the ball directly into the cup closest to them. “Fuck yeah!”

.

Outside on the front porch, Beverly leans against the wall of the fraternity as she lights up Mike’s cigarette and then her own. “So Mike, which I’m assuming is short for Michael, are you a part of this frat?”

.

Mike shakes his head as he takes his first drag, eyes wide as if Beverly’s question shocked him.  _“God no_. Do I look like it? I’m probably doing a lot wrong if I do.” He leans back against the porch railing. “I don’t even know  _what_ I’m doing here. But you’re right about my name, yes.”

.

Bev takes a drag along with him. “No, just asking for future reference I guess. Also I’d rather be dead than caught talking to a frat guy.” She lets out a light laugh. “Well this  _is_  a party, so I would think you’re here for the  _countless_  activities, such as beer pong and dancing. Or maybe you’re here to see someone, that could also be the case. Could that be it?”

.

Mike’s lips almost twitch into a smile, but he disguises it by puffing away at this cigarette. “Maybe so, Bev, but I don’t have to tell you anything.” The nickname rolls off his tongue so naturally that it actually weirds him out. “I’m sorry, can I call you that?”

.

“We’ve been friends for five seconds and you won’t tell me your whole backstory yet? Hm, I guess every movie out there lied to me about how this conversation would go.” She steals another glance at him, hoping any second now she’d be able to detect where she’s seen him before. “Bev, Beverly, same difference. Just as long as you don’t call me a bitch, it’s cool with me.”

.

Mike squints at her. “Why in the world would I call you that? I’ve known you for five seconds!”

.

“I dunno, it’s happened before. I’ll never understand the male agenda against women that a surprising amount of college guys have.” She takes another drag. “I feel like I’ve seen you before, were you like a child actor or something? Were you in some low budget hallmark movie or cereal commercial?”

.

Mike chokes mid-drag at her questions. “What?” He laughs. “No, no, I’m just a history student. I mean, unless 'Derry’s Favorite Punchbag For Racist Assholes’ counts as role.” He shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “You look familiar, too, though.”

.

Back downstairs, Eddie and Richie are down to two cups and the other team has three. Eddie, at this point, is feeling quite drunk, having chugged a few half-cups of beer along with all the hard liquor from earlier. He’s  _knowingly_  leaning into Richie now, just enough to make contact, and he’s getting kind of impatient with the game’s progress.

“Let’s win already, I want another drink,” he whines, half jokingly, as his ping pong ball lands neatly in one of the other team’s remaining cups.

.

At this point Ben has sent Mike about five more texts, with no response. He’s getting kind of worried, but cheers for Eddie anyway.

.

Richie steers Eddie to his left side and slings his arm around his shoulders. He raises up his right arm and tosses the ball. It lands perfectly into the cup. “It’s all on you now, Eddie.”

.

Eddie watches the other team take their turn, hoping they don’t sink both throws - but luckily, they only make one, leaving both sides with one cup remaining. He looks up at Richie for a moment before moving away from him to get in a good position.

Their victory rides on this, and in his drunken state he’s both anxious to get it over with and determined to win. He quickly glances back at Richie once again before tossing the ball. As it lands smoothly in the other team’s last remaining cup, the guys on the other end of the table both swear loudly in shock, and so does Eddie. “Oh! Shit!!”

.

When Eddie makes the shot Ben throws his free arm in the air, laughing. “Yes! You did it!” He finishes his drink with a smile in his face.

.

Richie cries out in excitement, laughing with thrill. He throws his arms around Eddie’s waist, lifts him up, and spins him around. “You fucking did it!”

.

Eddie laughs breathlessly, immediately turning red from being unexpectedly pulled flush against Richie this way and picked up like it’s nothing. When his feet are back on the ground, he doesn’t move immediately; he just continues to laugh, hands resting comfortably on Richie’s shoulders.

But then the moment catches up to him and he pulls away, glancing around nervously before settling his focus on Ben, then back to Richie. “Um.” He clears his throat. “I think we’re supposed to play again now… but I don’t really want to.”

.

Richie nods, still grinning even though Eddie pulled away. He looks cute with his face flushed from drinking too much. “I don’t either. I actually could use some fresh air, or ya know, a smoke.”

.

Eddie’s breath hitches for some inexplicable reason, thinking of the moment they shared outside after the dinner with Bill. “Yeah, okay. Uh, Ben, want to come outside?”

.

Ben observes with curiosity how Richie spins Eddie around. When Eddie lingers there with his hands on Richie, he smiles and lowers his eyes to play with his cup, swirling it and looking at the little drops of alcohol at the bottom move slowly with the motion.

He doesn’t look back up until Eddie talks to him. “Thank you, I think I’ll just keep looking for Mike. Don’t want him getting into trouble, you know?” Ben laughs. “But have fun out there. I’ll go get a drink now, see you around.”

.

“We can go with you first! And get another drink for you too, Eddie.” Richie takes hold Eddie’s forearm to lead them out of the basement quickly.

.

When they get upstairs, Ben says bye to Richie and Eddie before splitting off from them in search of some more whiskey. He pours some into his cup and stands there for a while to check his phone with a worried look on his face. He really hopes Mike is okay.

.

Bill is in the kitchen sipping on some jungle juice when he notices another guy there, looking extremely worried. At first, he isn’t going to talk to him, but something seems to pull him closer. Bill blames it on the alcohol and walks up to the guy, standing there for a second just drunkenly looking at him before he finally speaks, “Hey, are you okay?”

.

Ben’s looking at the crowd, thinking of ways to contact Mike any other way that wasn’t through his phone, when suddenly a voice brings him back to reality. He turns around too quickly, spilling some drops of liquor on the floor. “Oh, shit.” He laughs at his own mistake. “Hey.”

After cleaning the spill with some napkins that were laying around he looks back at the guy. “Oh, I’m okay, thank you.” Ben smiles politely. He would’ve excused himself and walked away immediately if not for this gut feeling telling him to stay. He considers it for a moment and finally decides to explain, “I’m looking for a friend, but I can’t find him.”

.

“Oh, maybe I can help you!” Bill sticks out his hand and tries to keep a nice smile on his face. “I’m Bill.”

.

Ben shakes his hand. “Thank you. Nice to meet you, I’m Ben.” He sips from his cup.

“He’s this tall,” he says, and gestures with his hand as a visual representation. “He’s black, brown eyes, wearing blue jeans, white t-shirt, a yellow hoodie… his name is Mike Hanlon. Maybe you know him? I don’t know, everybody seems to know each other here.” He laughs.

.

Bill immediately gets excited. He can’t believe Mike is  _here_  at the party! He scans the room and then realizes he should respond to Ben. “Yeah, I know him, I live across the hall from you guys.” That’s probably unimportant information, but Bill says it anyway. “I don’t see him in here, maybe he’s in the living room?”

.

Ben nods, not even surprised Bill knows him. “Wait, across the hall? Then your roommate is Richie, right?” So this is the guy Mike has mentioned. He smiles at this turn of events. “Yeah, maybe.”

.

“Alright, let’s go.” Bill leads Ben to the living room and looks around, trying to find Mike in the crowd. “I don’t see Mike in here.”

.

“Yeah, me neither. And he’s not answering my texts,” Ben raises his voice since the noise is so loud, and then points at the stairs. “Are there people up there?”

.

Bill looks to where Ben’s pointing and sees the stairs. He chokes on his jungle juice a bit, knowing what usually goes on _upstairs_. “Uhhh… I  _hope_  he’s not up there, that’s where people usually go to ‘release some tension’.”

.

Ben laughs. “Oh. Right. Okay, that’s probably not the best place to look for him, then.” 

.

Outside, Bev and Mike are still smoking. “So, you lived in Derry?” she asks. Maybe that’s where she’s seen him. “I lived there until I was thirteen, but then I moved. I actually forgot the name of the town before someone reminded me of it the other day. I don’t remember anyone from there, either, but I can kinda vaguely picture a Paul Bunyan statue and a huge standpipe.”

.

Honestly, Mike’s not even fazed at this point. He just nods. “Yeah, so is my roommate, and literally  _everyone_ else I’ve met here. Maybe we went to school together.” There’s a brief pause, and then Mike slaps his hand against his forehead. He forgot about Ben! “Oh shit, my roommate!”

He quickly pulls out his phone; he has like a dozen texts from Ben, holy shit. “We came together and got separated. He’s gonna be so pissed.” He texts Ben that he’s outside, then turns to Bev again. “But uh, yeah. We probably went to school together at some point.”

.

“It’s a quick drive from here to there, so maybe it’s just expected at this point for Derry residents to go to UMaine. I’ll look up the statistics on that one of these days… if I care enough to when I’m sober.” Bev lets out a small chuckle and shakes her head, watching Mike text.

“Kid can’t handle being alone a party for a couple of minutes?” She takes a final drag before discarding the last of her cigarette on the ground.

.

“He’s probably worried about  _me_ , to be honest. I don’t blame him,” Mike jokes.

.

Ben’s phone vibrates. He takes it out and sees, finally, a text from Mike. “Mike’s outside.” He smiles in relief and puts the phone back in his pocket. “Guess I know where to find him. Thanks for your help, Bill. Do you wanna come talk to Mike or do you wanna stay in here?”

.

“Oh! I’ll…” Bill looks out at the dance floor, acting like he’s surveying his options. In reality, he already knows that he’s going to decide to talk to Mike. He turns back to Ben and smiles at him. “I think I’ll go outside with you.”

.

“Sure, okay, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you,” Ben says with a smile, then walks toward the front door with Bill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> Ben - [ao3: hanscomarsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanscomarsh); [tumblr: hanscomarsh](https://hanscomarsh.tumblr.com)  
> Beverly - [ao3: bcnvcrly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcnvcrly); [tumblr: bcnvcrly](https://bcnvcrly.tumblr.com)  
> Bill - [ao3: hiyo_silver_away](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyo_silver_away); [tumblr: hiyo-silver-away](https://hiyo-silver-away.tumblr.com)  
> Mike - [ao3: mikehanlonstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikehanlonstan); [tumblr: mikehanlonstan](https://mikehanlonstan.tumblr.com)  
> 


	15. Frat Party Part 2 - The Night Goes On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this installment, Richie and Eddie get a little too cozy on the dance floor... and elsewhere, Ben and Bev formally meet at last, and Bill is very, very drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Saturday, 09/01, night; Unspecified Frat House**

After separating from Ben, Eddie and Richie wander to the area of the kitchen where the jungle juice resides, so focused on each other that they remain totally oblivious to anyone else around. Eddie detaches himself from Richie long enough to pour himself another drink and start downing it, while Richie chooses to stick with water for now. Then, drink in hand, he follows Richie to head outside.

.

As they pass by the living room, Richie stops abruptly, causing Eddie to nearly crash into his back, and spins around excitedly. “They’re playing a Sweet Dreams remix! Let’s go!” He takes Eddie’s hand, dragging him toward the dance floor.

.

Eddie tries to dig his heels in, spilling his drink a tiny bit onto the floor. “Richie, wait! No, I can’t.” He looks at him, eyes wide and pleading, because he still feels like he’s not drunk enough to risk the embarrassment of dancing in public.

.

Richie turns to him. “Whaddya mean ya can’t? Dancing is just jumping and swaying to the beat!” He spins him around and tries dancing backwards, bringing Eddie with him.

.

“I know, but -” It’s no use. Eddie lets Richie pull him further into the room, still resistant with his body language. He feels like people are already staring at him and judging, and he hasn’t even  _done_  anything yet. “I’m not ready!”

.

Richie entwines their fingers, holding Eddie’s eyes steadily. He lowers his face so Eddie can hear him over the music. “Hey, Eddie, just focus on me. No one else is here.”

.

Eddie looks down at their hands and then back up to Richie’s face, cheeks flushing. “Okay.” He lets Richie pull him in closer, and takes a few big sips of his drink for courage before abandoning the nearly empty cup on a random side table. “You don’t happen to have any ecstasy on you, do you? That’d be a big help,” he says, only half jokingly.

.

“No ecstasy on me tonight. You’ll _just_ have to get high off being around me.” Richie yanks Eddie onto the middle of the dance floor, keeping their hands firmly grasped so as not to lose each other.

.

Eddie laughs and follows Richie’s lead, and they soon find themselves among the crowd of drunk students jumping up and down or grinding against one another. At first he wants to make a run for it, but then he remembers what Richie said and tries his best to just focus on him and pretend no one else is there.

The Sweet Dreams remix is still going, and it’s not terrible. The room is dark at this point in the night, with LED lights flashing to create a club vibe. And  _maybe_ Eddie underestimated how drunk he is, because it doesn’t take him long to find a rhythm and (mostly) stop caring, so long as he keeps his eyes on Richie.

.

“How are you feeling?” Richie asks as he drops his hands to Eddie’s waist lightly, careful not to bring them too much closer. He’s still confused about what’s happening between them and feels that any move could be the wrong one.

.

Eddie moves closer to Richie without thinking about it, one hand hovering over his bicep for a moment before lightly touching it and then slowly moving up to his shoulder. “Fine - good. Fine!” he says loudly, feeling lightheaded.

Okay so  _maybe_  he downed that last drink too fast.

He looks up as a new song with a faster beat starts blasting from the speakers. The beat quickly leads into a remix of ‘Don’t You Want Me’ by the Human League, causing him to smile sneakily at Richie.

.

Richie grins back. “What are you smirking at?”

.

“You, obviously.” Eddie’s smile grows and he dances closer, movements quickening as the beat starts to build up.

.

“You’re so cute,” Richie says next to his ear.

.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he lets out a nervous laugh, letting go of Richie’s shoulder. As the beat drops, he makes a split second decision to turn around, now grinding back against Richie. Impatiently wanting more contact, he reaches back and grabs both of Richie’s hands, pressing them firmly against his waist.

.

All oxygen leaves Richie’s brain when Eddie turns around, the invitation to dance closer together right in front of him. He feels at the mercy of this unexpectedly assertive behavior.

Richie digs his fingers into Eddie’s waist and guides their movement together. Eddie’s shirt rides up a bit as his hips move, allowing for the slightest brush of Richie’s fingertips over the skin there.

.

When he feels Richie’s touch on his bare skin, Eddie’s breath hitches and on reflex his hands tense over Richie’s - just enough to send the message not to move from that spot. Alarms are already going off in his mind, ringing with the warning that this is  _exactly_  what he wanted to avoid, but Eddie has never had good self control without someone telling him what to do.

And right now it’s so easy to ignore those alarms.

His head is spinning as he leans to the right, shoulder brushing against Richie’s chest as he turns his head to glance back at him.

.

Richie is already looking down at Eddie when his face turns up to him. His gaze flickers to Eddie’s lips fleetingly then back to his eyes. They are so _close_  that he could move his face down another couple inches and slot their lips together. But he doesn’t want to ruin it. He just wants to watch the way Eddie moves and embrace how their bodies are in perfect tandem.

He’s starting to wonder if he is intoxicated by the alcohol or by Eddie.

.

Eddie shudders beneath Richie’s gaze and he moves their hands again, this time sliding Richie’s palms over his stomach rather than his waist. The muscles in his lower abdomen jump under the touch, and as he moves his hips more, he thinks that ‘Don’t You Want Me’ is just about the perfect song for this moment. Even if it is a club remix.

He leans to the side a little more to get a better view of Richie’s face, comforted by his embrace and captivated by his eyes, so blue and perfectly highlighted by the frames of his glasses. The sight makes his heart flutter, but at the same time, his gut twists in a slight panic. There’s a sense of familiarity that keeps coming up when he’s around Richie, and it scares him.

It scares him because familiarity brings contentment, and contentment is dangerous.

“I think I’m drunk,” he blurts out loudly, followed by a breathless laugh, because it isn’t as if  _that_  really means anything at this point in time. Then, abruptly, he breaks eye contact to face forward again.

.

Richie‘s heart clenches at Eddie’s statement of being drunk, because he suddenly fears he may be taking advantage in some way. It has been so easy to get lost in everything that Richie didn’t stop to think it might be wrong. As a horrible churning begins forming in his stomach, he slowly, reluctantly removes his hands from where Eddie had placed them on his stomach.

“Let’s grab some water and see if there’s some food we can steal!” he shouts over the music.

.

Eddie turns to him, confused. “What? No we can keep dancing - I’m fine with dancing now! I’m not hungry. Unless you’re hungry?”

.

“Yeah, I kinda am.” Richie’s stomach turns again and, if he’s being honest, the last thing he wants to do is eat. He holds out his hand for Eddie to decide if he wants to take it.

.

Eddie’s heart sinks, because Richie doesn’t look entirely happy, and he wonders if he’d done something wrong. Maybe he was being too forward, and now Richie thinks he’s slutty. Or maybe…

Then he looks down at Richie’s hand and thinks, well, even if he  _did_  do something wrong, at least Richie still wants to be around him, right? So he reaches over and takes it, feeling his anxiety ease a bit once they’re touching again. “Okay, let’s go then.”

.

Richie pushes through the crowd until they’re out of the living room, Eddie close at his heel. He thinks he can breathe a little better, now that there aren’t a bunch of sweaty college students surrounding him.

.

Eddie follows Richie into the kitchen, holding his hand tightly. Once they get there, he resists the temptation to get another drink to calm his anxiety and just accepts the bottled water Richie grabs for him. There isn’t anything to eat, though, just a plethora of alcoholic beverages. “Um… we could explore the house… maybe there’s a bowl of chips somewhere?”

.

“We need to find the pot smokers,” Richie realizes, turning to lead Eddie out of the kitchen. “They’re probably upstairs.”

.

While Richie and Eddie are on the dance floor, Ben and Bill make their way to the open door that leads to the front porch, smiling. However, once they’re standing on the doorway and Ben is raising his arm to wave at Mike, he freezes. His wide eyes can only focus on one single person in the whole place:

_The Angry Girl._

Suddenly there are shivers up his spine, and his entire face is burning. He grabs Bill by the arm and without even thinking about it, he turns around and shoves Bill and himself behind the wall, out of Mike and the girl’s sight.

.

Bill  _was_ prepared to say hello to Mike, but this sudden turn of events has him confused. “Wh-what are you doing?” he asks in a hushed voice, trying to not draw attention to them. He didn’t think  _Ben_  would try to hit on him, but if he wants to make out Bill wouldn’t be entirely opposed, given how hot Ben is.

.

Ben keeps holding Bill’s arm and stays there breathing for several seconds, until he realizes the guy said something. “I just…”

He can’t seem to focus. Ben lets him go and starts fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket instead. “I don’t know.” A nervous laugh escapes his mouth. He shakes his head, trying to calm himself down, put his thoughts in order and his heart at rest. If Bill wasn’t there, he could probably leave and tell Mike he’s somewhere else, but he is. “I’m not ready to go out there yet. That girl…”.

.

Bill’s extremely confused. He caught a quick glimpse at the girl Mike is with, and he’s pretty sure she’s just Richie’s friend Bev. Does Ben have a crush on her? Or does he cream his jeans  _any_  time he sees a girl? Bill doesn’t know this guy!

“What? Are you nervous around girls?”

.

“What? No, no.” Ben rubs his forehead. “I’m not nervous around girls.” _‘Just this one.’_

He puts his hand in his pocket, closes his eyes, and breathes deeply. _'Ben Hanscom, you’re no coward,’_  he thinks, before opening his eyes again. “It’s nothing. Come on, let’s go.” He smiles at Bill and walks back out, waving at Mike (and the girl).

Now there’s no going back.

.

Mike notices Ben walking towards them with Bill, and cracks a smile. “There you are!” He turns to Beverly, and once Ben’s close enough he pats him on the back. “Sorry I worried you. Bev, this is my roommate, Ben.”

He smiles sheepishly at Bill. “Hi.”

.

At first, Bev is too busy overlooking the front lawn, which is covered with drunk college students, to notice Bill and Ben coming towards them. Once Mike calls her name, she turns to see Bill… and the guy that almost ran her over.

“What are the odds, huh?” Bev is starting to get a headache again, so she decides to avoid discussing the whole  _Ben incident._ “Bill, you know Mike?”

.

Ben doesn’t know what to do with himself when she talks, so he drinks half of his cup at once. “The odds,” he says in a whisper that is almost impossible to hear over all the party noise coming from right behind him. Wait, her name is Bev? Bev.  _Bev._

.

“Yeah, I know Mike. He lives across from me, so does Benny Boy.” Bill gives Ben’s back a bro pat, but he’s too busy focusing on Mike at this point to notice how uncomfortable Ben seems.

.

Ben smiles at Bill but doesn’t say anything. Words are too difficult for him right now and his mind is busy repeating her name over and over again.  _Bev. Bev. Bev._

So as not to make her uncomfortable, he avoids looking at her and instead turns to Mike. “I thought we were leaving right away, so I got worried about you. But I’m glad you’re fine,” he says more loudly as he pats Mike on the back. He tries to focus on Mike, on Bill, on the sky, on the floor, on that couple fighting in the distance, on  _anything_  that would make him not look at her, but his eyes betray him anyway a couple of times.

.

Mike looks back and forth from Ben to Bev, noticing the sudden  _tension_  in the air. "Uh… do you two know each other?”

.

“Yeah, we’ve  _met_  before. You could say that.” Bev moves her hand over to the side of the arm she fell on, feeling whatever was left of the scrapes Ben had caused.

.

Ben doesn’t hear Mike’s question or Bev’s answer. All he can see, when she moves her arm, are her wrists. Both of them, he realizes, have delicate tattoos decorating her skin. A snowflake and a flame. He’s lost in them.

_He’s lost again._

“Winter fire,” he blurts out and looks at her in the eyes, confused and surprised by his own words, not even knowing what he’s saying.

.

Bev is left stunned by those two words. They make more sense to her than her own reasoning for getting the tattoos in the first place.

.

"What?” Mike waves his hand in front of Ben’s face. “Ben, buddy, you good?”

.

“He’s talking about my tattoos,” Bev says, and lays her wrists out on display. “Winter fire.”

As she drops her arms back down to her sides, she looks back at Ben, focusing on his eyes just as he’s looking at hers.

.

Ben clears his throat and opens his mouth, but closes it again a couple of times. He’s deciding whether or not it’s okay to compliment her on them but now she’s looking at him and the world is spinning and his are blushing even more than before. “Yeah.”

.

Bill watches this interaction occur and he’s honestly very confused. Winter fire? Sounds fancy. He checked out as soon as Ben said that, trying to figure it out, and maybe it’s all the drinks he’s had, but his thoughts start to spiral. Suddenly he can’t help but open his mouth, “Ben tried to kiss me.”

.

“Wait, what?” Mike looks at Ben. “What??”

.

Bev is instantly brought out of her long gaze. “… What?”

.

Bill looks unfazed. He’s just happy to be there.

.

“WHAT!?” Ben jumps and looks at Bill with huge eyes, completely confused and embarrassed. “No, I didn’t, Bill!”

He looks at Mike and frantically shakes his head. “That’s  _not_  true, I promise.” He turns to Bill again. “What are you  _talking about??”_

.

“ _Well_.” Bill takes a deep breath, preparing this story.

“It started with us going all around the house looking for you. We started in the kitchen, then went to the living room, and then Ben finally looked at his phone and saw that you were outside!” He takes a sippy sippy of his jungle juice. “So, we walked outside, and before I even got a chance to say hello, he pulled me to the side and shoved me against a wall! I was so confused! I seriously thought he was going to kiss me for a second.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“I asked him what he was doing and he said he was too nervous to say hey, since _‘That Girl’_ was standing with you.” Bill pauses to wave at Bev with a sweet smile. _‘Bev is so cool.’_  “Then he finally worked up the courage to talk, and here we are, in a cute little pow-wow on the porch,” he finishes, proud of himself for remembering all of those details.

.

This is probably a good time for Ben to dig a hole in the ground, throw himself in there, and PERISH. He stares at Bill, jaw dropped, eyes begging him to stop,  _please stop_ \- but he doesn’t. He just  _doesn’t._

.

Mike stands there for a few seconds after, a little dumbfounded, then looks at Ben and sees how embarrassed he looks. Then he just bursts out laughing at how wasted Bill is and how awkward Ben must feel.

.

Bev isn’t  _quite_  sure how to react to being known as _That Girl_ , but it sure does bring out a smile and a natural blush to her face. She joins Mike in the laughter, having caught up to the realization of how plastered Bill is.

.

After a moment of silence, Ben chugs the other half of his whiskey and looks at them all laughing at him. He wants to disappear, but when Bev laughs he feels his heart flutter. He smiles a little, staring at his empty cup because he can’t bear to look at her right now.

“I didn’t-” His voice cracks. “It’s nothing  _bad_. I was surprised, that’s all. Didn’t want you feeling uncomfortable or mad with me around, and…” No, he’s not about to say what he’s been feeling since the day he met her. “Yeah. That’s it.”

.

Mike finally starts calming down and puts a hand on Ben’s shoulder for support (his own support and also moral support). “Oh, Ben. Is  _anybody_  going to tell me what’s going on here?” He motions between Ben and Bev.

.

Beverly composes herself after the hearty laughter. “Well, a few days ago I was waiting in the parking lot for my roommate to text me about lunch plans and Ben’s car started to leave the parking spot right as I was about to ride off on my bike. And it was like _really_  close to where I was, so I thought his car was literally about to hit me. So I swerved over and fell on the ground, and this whole week I was pissed and  _convinced_  it was his fault. But I mean I was also on my phone when it happened, and apparently he warned me, so it wasn’t really his fault.”

She’s in a happy mood and that might be what causes her to change her mind about what had occurred that day. There’s also the fact that she can’t get over how  _cute_ Ben is just now, which could be another factor.

.

Ben stares at her in awe. He’d been so sure she would start talking angrily about the subject, but she didn’t. He looks from her to Mike and then at the ground. “I’m sorry you fell because of it. I should’ve waited longer for you to notice my signs.”

.

“No, it’s cool, really. Got a couple of scrapes but nothing I can’t handle.” Bev holds a smile on her face, which she never thought she’d have around him. She notices she keeps staring at Ben, so she shakes her head and turns her attention away. “Plus I was really into my Instagram feed at the time, so if you waited for me to get off my phone it probably wouldn’t have happened.”

.

Her smile makes Ben nervous, but when he goes to drink some more from his cup to relax, he realizes there’s nothing in there. He looks at Mike. “I think I’m gonna go refill my cup now, be right back.”

.

“Actually, I’ll come with.” Bev had almost forgotten about her thirst after she threw her first drink at Mike. “I need a drink too.”

.

Ben blushes and smiles, giving a quick look at Mike to make sure he’s okay with staying out here with Bill for a while, then he looks back at Bev. “Sure, yeah. Let’s go.”

.

While all that is unfolding outside, Eddie lets Richie lead the way upstairs, and it occurs to him what 'upstairs’ often entails, or at least, what it has entailed in the past, for him. For some reason this doesn’t concern him, though, not even vaguely, because that baffling but implicit trust in Richie won’t allow him to worry for long.

Upstairs, the smell of marijuana hits him instantly, and while there are probably quite a few rooms available for the aforementioned  _other_ reasons, there is a common area toward the back of the house that contains a couple of bongs and a few people just chilling on sofas and bean bag chairs. The atmosphere, unsurprisingly, is much more relaxed than it is downstairs. And, as predicted, there are bowls of chips lying around.

.

This whole time, Richie has kept their hands clasped together, and there is something so natural about holding Eddie’s hand. He remembers there being someone from childhood whose hand he held constantly, but it was always in private, never in public. They would play with each other’s fingers or line their hands up together, which always led to entwining them.

That past comfort is identical to this moment, but when they enter the room he eases his hand out of Eddie’s, tugging at his fingers playfully before letting go entirely. Then he addresses the students in the room, “Hey friends! Can I steal these chips? I’m getting the munchies.” The few students there nod and offer Richie a hit from a blunt. He turns to Eddie. “Do you mind?”

.

“No, not at all,” Eddie says, shaking his head. They take a seat on one of the sofas, and Eddie grabs a small handful of chips.

.

Richie takes a hit then starts to pass it to Eddie. “Do you smoke?”

.

Eddie considers saying no for a moment, but honestly, at this point what kind of reputation is he really trying to uphold? So he just nods and takes the joint. “I probably shouldn’t, because I have asthma, but I read somewhere online that marijuana is actually  _anti_ -inflammatory so if anything it probably  _helps_  with asthma, so…” He trails off from his rambling and quickly takes a hit from the joint before he’s forced to relight it himself.

.

Richie watches Eddie take a small hit and heavily contemplates his next words. Then he takes a chance. “Do you want to shotgun a hit from me?”

.

“Oh.” Eddie bites his lip, remembering a time, a few years ago, when he was asked that same question at a different party, by the guy who would later become his first real boyfriend. At the time, he was much more drunk than he is right now, but  _something_ held him back from doing it. That same ‘something’, whatever it was, stopped him from doing a lot of things that night.

But sitting here with Richie now, the entire atmosphere is different. It feels…  _right_ , as though this is how it was  _supposed_  to be back in high school. So he nods, and leans in a little closer, completely ignoring everyone else in the room. “Alright, let’s do it.”

.

Richie’s heart begins to race. He sort of wishes Eddie said no, because now he is really nervous about fucking this up. He places the blunt in his mouth, inhales the smoke, then leans over, keeping his eyes focused on Eddie’s lips so he will not back down.

He tucks a piece of hair behind Eddie’s ear then lightly holds his chin, watching as Eddie opens his mouth willingly. Richie keeps their lips a half inch from touching as he blows his smoke out slowly.

.

Closing his eyes, Eddie breathes in deeply and lets Richie’s smoke fill his lungs. His heart is pounding. Somehow, it’s one of the most intimate moments of his life, in spite of their environment and the fact that their lips aren’t even touching. Not touching, perhaps, but so close that Eddie can  _almost_  feel it - the phantom connection that  _should_ be there. He shudders.

 _‘Don’t cough, don’t cough,’_  he thinks desperately to himself as he pulls away a bit. He exhales slowly, eyes fluttering open in a way that he really  _hopes_  is at least somewhat alluring.

.

Richie watches Eddie with fascination then realizes he should probably say something. “You know what I miss?”

.

Eddie blinks. “What?”

.

Richie kicks his legs up so they are splayed across Eddie’s lap. “Being a kid. Always feels like there is this pressure on all of us to be adults really fast. What I wouldn’t give to play arcade games, eat ice cream, and never worry about anything. Adulthood is too real. Ya know?”

.

“Do we really qualify as real adults yet? There isn’t a whole lot of responsibility besides going to class…” Eddie leans back against the sofa cushions. “And you can play games and eat ice cream as much as you want,  _whenever_ you want. More than you could as a kid.”

He pauses for a beat, wondering if he’s making any sense. “At least… more than I could. I can do those things more now, I mean.”

.

Richie starts tracing circles over Eddie’s arm, feeling extremely relaxed. “I feel like I so desperately what to  _be_ someone and do something big that the stress of it needing to happen now gets to me.” He absentmindedly spells _‘R & E’_ with his finger on Eddie’s skin. “Eddie, was your mom super strict?”

.

Eddie had been mesmerized by watching Richie’s hand movements, so when he suddenly hears his mother mentioned he’s cruelly jolted back to reality.

“What? No. I mean, yes, but she just worries a lot. She means well,” he says, the words coming out like a well rehearsed script. He refocuses his eyes on Richie, switching effortlessly back to the previous subject. “You don’t have to do something big right now, you’re just… lining everything up to fall into place later! I think… it’ll happen when it’s supposed to. Everything does.”

.

Richie walks his fingers up Eddie’s arm and past his shoulder to rest his hand against the nape of his neck. “What do you worry about most?” Richie asks, surprisingly quietly, his eyes half-lidded but focused on Eddie’s face.

.

Although Eddie tenses at the question, his answer comes out before he can stop his mouth from moving, “Rotting from the inside out.”

.

“I doubt there is anything rotten about you,” Richie says as he runs his fingers through the back of Eddie’s hair absently.

.

Eddie’s heart breaks at those words, and he  _wants_  to believe them - wants to believe  _anything_ Richie tells him - but… “You hardly know me.”

He drums his fingers on the couch cushion and then turns away from Richie to drink heavily from his water bottle. Wanting a distraction, he looks around the room, which is spinning a bit at this point, but no one is paying any attention to them.

.

Richie stops his hand midway through caressing. “Well, I’d like to change that, if you want me to.”

.

Something about Richie makes Eddie  _want_  to open up, and that terrifies him. He takes a shaking breath, feeling his throat tighten, then drops his gaze and reaches into his pocket. _‘Shit, that’s right.’_  He didn’t bring his inhaler tonight because it ‘ruined his tight pants aesthetic’ and after drinking before the party, he didn’t really think about the possibility of having an asthma attack.

However, he  _did_  bring a Xanax. That would calm him down, for sure, and he can feel it in his pocket, waiting for him. But…  
  
He stops, still touching the pill in his pocket, and looks at Richie again. Exposing Richie to the type of person he used to be at parties would be a terrible idea. He  _likes_ Richie, and he wants Richie to like  _him - really_  like him, and not just for tonight. Maybe that’s what scares him the most.

Withdrawing his hand, he leaves the pill in his pocket and takes another tight breath. "Sorry - maybe uh -” He lets out another labored exhale. “Maybe the smoke wasn’t so good for my lungs after all.”

.

Richie looks at him with concern as fear-induced adrenaline sobers him up fast. He quickly removes his legs from Eddie’s lap and places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “What do you need? You said you have asthma? Do you have your inhaler? Fuck, Eddie, I’m so sorry. Should we open a window? Or go outside? Fuck.”

.

“No, no - I’m okay,” Eddie says, but Richie’s questions only make him more anxious.  _This is it,_  the point at which they always decide he’s too much work and walk away. He’s usually relieved, in that inevitable moment, but this time it sends a wave of panic through him. The last thing he wants is for Richie to leave! He  _can’t_  leave - he _can’t_  -

Eddie suddenly leans forward and buries his face in his hands, gasping for air, just _knowing_  he’s drawing the attention of the others in the room. That knowledge makes it harder to breathe, too. _'Calm down, calm down, CALM DOWN!!’_

“I’m okay, it’s fine! I - I just need another drink or - something.  _Shit_.”

.

“Eddie, breathe. Please. Breathe.“ Richie taps into an instinct he didn’t even know existed in him. Carefully, he removes Eddie’s hands from his face, which is turning redder by the second, and gets him to his feet. “Focus on me. I’m the only one here. Okay?”

.

“Yeah - yeah,” Eddie says faintly, letting Richie pull him to his feet. “You’re the only one.”

.  
  
Richie leads him out of the lounge and heads back downstairs with one arm slung around his shoulders soothingly. They briefly stop at the kitchen so that Richie can yell at a frat boy to throw him another water bottle.

As soon as they are out on the back porch, Richie walks them over as far from anyone else as he can, then uncaps the bottle and shoves it into Eddie’s hands. “Drink.”

.

“But -” Eddie starts to protest, but then he meets Richie’s eyes and quietly brings the water up to his lips. The fresh air is quickly making him feel less suffocated, though he’s still trying to catch his breath. “I’m alright - it sometimes goes - um - away on its own.”

.

“Are you sure? Do you want to go home?”

.

“No!!” Eddie can’t keep the worry off of his face - Richie’s trying to get rid of him, he just knows it. “It was just - the room was stuffy. It’s better now.”

.

“Okay. Cool, cool.” Richie lets out a breathy laugh. “Don’t want you dying on me now. Then I will have to deal with awkward questions about how I  _literally_  took your breath away from my looks alone.”

.

“Hah… yeah… that’s what it was. Sure.” Eddie takes a deep breath and leans back against the side of the house, closing his eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep better at night.”

.

Richie goes to touch Eddie’s arm to comfort him but stops himself. Touching someone having a panic attack is probably not a good idea… wait, no… it’s an  _asthma_ attack, not panic. “Knowing I can kill someone just by my looks? Every man’s dream, Eddie my boy.”

.

Eddie laughs, opening his eyes only to roll them. “You’re so humble.” He’s somewhat relieved that Richie is making light of the situation, and even more relieved that he’s still there. Eddie looks at him as he takes another sip of water. “Not gonna lie, I wish you’d grabbed a beer or two instead of this.”

.

Richie smiles at Eddie’s laugh. “Forgive me, I assumed water was a better option for someone having trouble  _breathing_  due to weed. But if his royal HIGHness would prefer beer, I can grab that too.”

.

“I -” Eddie stands up straighter, still leaning against the wall. “I don’t  _usually_  have ‘trouble breathing’ when I drink  _or_  smoke - except when…” He stops, meeting Richie’s eyes for only a moment. No - he doesn’t need to finish that sentence. Richie doesn’t need to know how pathetic he truly is. “Nevermind. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I can get one myself.”

.

“I’m fucking kidding, Eddie. I’ll go get one. You stay here to get more fresh air,” Richie says, then heads into house.

.

Eddie nods and watches him go, then sinks down to sit on his heels. He focuses on his breathing, head still spinning a little in spite of the fresh air.

.  
  
Meanwhile, out front, Mike and Bill move from the porch to the lawn, with Bill stumbling about in his drunken state and making the both of them laugh. They decide to find someplace to sit by the side of the house, where it’s a little less crowded. Once they’re finally sitting down and their senseless giggling has calmed down, Mike leans his back against the wall and smiles. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say, he barely knows this guy, but this feels okay regardless. “So, uh, Bill. You never called. Should I be offended?”

.

“Oh god.” He’s right, Bill didn’t call. He was just too nervous and never worked up the courage. Now that Mike has pointed it out, Bill feels like a total asshole. “I’m sorry, I meant to call… I just got busy with classes.”  _‘Just tell the truth.’_ “And I was nervous. You’re so cute I didn’t want to mess anything up.”

.

Mike laughs at that. “Oh, shut up,” he says, gently shoving his knee. “You’re drunk.”

.

Bill laughs at that, purposely overreacting to the shove and falling over to lie down on the ground. He’s extra goofy when drunk. “Maybe so.” He rolls over on the ground to be facing Mike and props himself up on his elbows. “I can still tell you’re cute, though.”

.

“You barely know me,” Mike says, even though he feels like that’s not quite true. He hugs his knees to chest and rests his cheek on them, looking down at Bill with a somewhat suspicious expression. “You’re just buttering me up. I could be a weirdo for all you know.”

.

“You’d be a cute weirdo.” Bill changes positions so that he’s now sitting criss-cross applesauce, facing Mike. “I guess I don’t know much about you, Mike from Derry. So tell me about you. What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite movie??” he asks excitedly.

.

Mike cracks a smile. “My favorite color’s yellow, and my favorite movie is 'Alien’… but 'Beauty and the Beast’ is a close second. I used to watch it with my mom all the time.”

.

“Ooh, yellow’s a very pretty color. Personally I’m a fan of the color red.” Bill thinks for a moment about Mike’s movie choices. ‘Beauty and the Beast’ is the cutest answer ever and Bill can’t help but smile at that. “‘Alien’ is pretty good, it’s very well done, and ‘Beauty and the Beast’ is a very quality Disney film. Belle is one of the best princesses.”

Mike mentioned his mom, which has drunk Bill thinking about his own mom. “My mom and I used to watch ‘A Goofy Movie’ together when I was younger. It was awesome.”

.

“That one’s good, yeah. But I have a soft spot for the more romantic ones.” Mike rests his head back against the wall, still smiling lazily. It’s getting late and he’s getting sleepy, but he’s comfortable here on the grass for the time being. “Okay, my turn, Bill from Derry. Tell me about your family.”

.

“Oh, hmmm…” Bill stops and thinks about what to say, and decides on ‘everything’. “Well, it’s just me and my mom. My dad died, like, five months ago, but I’m not really bothered by it.”

_‘Am I really not bothered? Is that bad?’_

“And my little brother, Georgie-” Suddenly, he stops talking, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth. Georgie? He hadn’t heard that name in  _years_. It’s like a wave of memory just rushed through him, of a little boy who always clung to his side. Why did he stop thinking about him? “Umm… Georgie… he’s dead, too.”

.

“Oh…”  _‘Well, that’s one way to kill the mood.’_ Mike thinks. “I’m sorry.”

.

“It’s um… it’s fine.” Bill goes back to pretending that he’s fine, since he doesn’t want Mike to be uncomfortable. “So…” Awkward cough. “Are you having fun at the party?”

.

“Uhm…” Mike fidgets with his hoodie string, still a little rattled by the sudden change in mood. “I don’t know, yeah. I’ve been here for an hour… got a drink thrown in my face… made a friend.” He chuckles. “Parties aren’t my thing, I just had nothing better to do.”

.

“Oh.” That sucks. Bill hadn’t realized that Mike got a drink thrown in his face, but at least he made a new friend. He suddenly has an idea. “Hey, do you wanna leave? We could go get something to eat, or go back to the dorm and chill…”  _‘Please say yes.’_

.

Mike raises an eyebrow. “Back to  _your_  dorm to chill? What are you suggesting?”

.

 _Shit._  “Oh no - no no! I wasn’t saying it like  _that_. I meant we could w-watch uhh ‘Beauty and the Beast’… or any movie…” Bill did a goof. “I just thought you might want to leave the p-party.”

.

“Hm… well….” Mike checks his phone, but there are no messages from Ben whatsoever. “Ben and Bev have been getting more drinks for twenty minutes now, so I guess we’re not needed.” He texts Ben that he’s leaving early with Bill, and to have fun with his new crush, with a winky face. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind getting something to eat.”

.

Bill has to contain his happiness so he doesn’t do a little dance in front of Mike, but he does drunkenly wiggle in excitement a bit. “Yay! We’re gonna have so much fun. We’re gonna get food! It’ll be great.”

He stumbles as he tries to stand, but when he’s finally up he holds out his hands to help Mike up.

.

Mike lets Bill help him up and texts Ben one more time to say that he’s okay (and to say hi to Beverly), then puts his phone away. After dusting himself off, he looks back up at Bill, feeling a little hesitant - since he doesn’t, like,  _know_  this person - but he grins anyway. “You ready to go?”

.

Bill looks over and just smiles at him before quickly grabbing his hand and pulling him along, away from the frat house and towards the nearest Miscellaneous Diner™️.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> Ben - [ao3: hanscomarsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanscomarsh); [tumblr: hanscomarsh](https://hanscomarsh.tumblr.com)  
> Beverly - [ao3: bcnvcrly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcnvcrly); [tumblr: bcnvcrly](https://bcnvcrly.tumblr.com)  
> Bill - [ao3: hiyo_silver_away](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyo_silver_away); [tumblr: hiyo-silver-away](https://hiyo-silver-away.tumblr.com)  
> Mike - [ao3: mikehanlonstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikehanlonstan); [tumblr: mikehanlonstan](https://mikehanlonstan.tumblr.com)  
> 


	16. Frat Party Part 3 - Three Drunk Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Mike and Bill leave the party, they walk to get some late night food. Meanwhile, back at the frat, Bev joins Ben in some bonding and whiskey consumption, Eddie recovers from his ‘asthma’ attack, and Richie finally gets his smoke break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Saturday, 09/01, late night; UMaine Campus**

At first, Mike lets Bill drag him away from the frat house by the hand, but once their run slows down to a walk, he pulls his hand away. Bill looks elated, and he can’t help but match his bright smile and laugh with him.

“Okay, okay -” He pauses to catch his breath, wanting to maintain some sense of rationality about the situation. “Where are you taking me? Why are we running?”

.

Bill turns towards Mike, the smile growing on his face. He’s not too sure where they’re going, just that he really needs some cheese fries. “I’m thinking a diner, do you know any near here?” He hopes so, or else they’ll just be walking aimlessly. “And why not run? There’s nothing wrong with running. Sometimes you just gotta get your blood pumping.” 

.

“Get your blood pumping, huh? Are you one of those guys? The ones who spend all day in the gym working on their  _sick abs?_ ” Mike knows that Bill is practically a stranger and that he shouldn’t trust him like it’s nothing, but he can’t deny the rush of comfort he feels whenever Bill smiles at him. Familiarity. _God_ , maybe he’s just that desperate for friendship.

“I know a place, but I don’t know where it is from here. Lemme just…” He pulls his phone out to check the map for any places nearby. “Okay, I know where we’re going.”

.

“Lead the way!” Bill starts walking, not even sure if it’s the right direction. “And - God, no, I don’t go to the gym.” He would rather eat dirt than go to the gym every day. Can’t Mike tell he barely ever works out? He looks like a walking stick bug. Maybe there are a few muscles on him from band, but he’s  _certainly_  not ripped. “I was just thinking about how much I want a large plate of cheese fries.” He’s still drunkenly smiling, but he can’t help it right now.

.

Mike’s too busy laughing at Bill’s nonsense to notice that he’s taken a totally wrong turn at first. “Wait - wrong way, you idiot!” He laughs as he pulls him back toward the right direction by the back of his shirt. “This way! Okay, so you’re not a gym rat, that’s a good thing. What  _are_ you then? What’s your deal?”

.

Bill laughs as Mike drags him back towards the way they’re meant to go, then he ponders on Mike’s question. What  _is_  he? A human. But Mike probably wants him to be more specific than that. He sighs, trying to come up with a great answer that will make Mike see him as calm, cool, and collected.

“I’m… hungry.”  _‘Fuck.’_ “I mean… I’m just  _Bill_. I go to class most days, I save my homework for the last minute, I listen to music when I get stressed, and eat too many Lean Cuisine™️ Mac and Cheese dinners.” He chuckles a bit at how dumb he might sound. “I guess right now I’m a guy who’s walking down the street with a cool guy. What about you? What are  _you_  all about?”

.

Mike is tired, but having fun with Bill, so his better judgement is slowly slipping from him. Logically, he knows he has no reason to feel this at ease around him, but Bill’s so effortlessly easy going that he does anyway.

“Uhm,” he starts, biting his lip while he thinks. “I’m Mike. I always wake up at the crack of dawn, even on weekends. I like the smell of old books, I take a lot of pictures, and I have a dog named Bambi.” He pauses to laugh when Bill once again stumbles toward the wrong direction. “And, uh, I’m going to get food with a  _decently_  cool guy.” 

.

“Only decently?” Bill pretends to be offended, but can’t hold back a laugh. “I like to think I’m a  _millimeter_ above average on a good day.” He can’t stop laughing, and he’s not even sure what he’s laughing at. Yeah, he’s definitely drunk. “What kind of dog is Bambi? I love dogs so much.”

.

"Bambi’s a border collie. Four years old.” Mike’s grin widens as he looks up from his phone and nudges Bill with his elbow. “Oh yes, just  _decently_  cool,” he repeats. “I don’t want to give you  _too_ much confidence. What music do you listen to?”

.

“Bambi sounds adorable!” Bill gets excited just _thinking_ about dogs. “Well, I listen to a lot of music. I mostly stick to Indie and Alt Rock. I sometimes get a bit of folk in there. I just like music that makes me feel good. What about you?”

.

“Oh, right, I - I’ve totally asked you that before.” Mike laughs. “We’ve already had this conversation. But uh, I guess I didn’t tell you about Aretha Franklin. My mom listens to her a lot. On Sundays, when I was a kid, she’d start playing her songs early in the morning and we’d make breakfast together before Church. And she’d sing sometimes, it was… it was fun.” He smiles to himself at the memories, but then shakes his head and checks the map again. “And uh, yeah. We’re almost there, by the way.”

.

“Ooh, nice!” Bill can see the sign for the restaurant in the distance and immediately feels more excited. His first instinct is to start running so he can eat as soon as possible, but talking about Mike’s family stops him. “Your mom seems really cool. Anyone who listens to Aretha must be awesome.”

.

“She is awesome.” Mike sighs as he puts his phone back in his pocket. He smiles wistfully to himself, starting to feel a little homesick once again; it’s been a regular thing this entire week. “My mom - I mean, both my parents are kinda my best friends. As sad as that sounds,” he chuckles. “I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

.

“It’s not that sad, my mom is one of my best friends too!” To Bill, Mike seems even nicer now that he knows this about him. He can almost envision Mike making breakfast with his parents, but he seems _younger_  than how Bill knows him. He shakes the thought out of his mind and looks back over to him. “Parents should always be your best friend, nothing wrong with that.”

.

Mike beams at Bill, pleasantly surprised by his response. It makes him much more likable in Mike’s eyes, knowing he appreciates his family. “That’s so nice. I rarely meet anyone who doesn’t think it’s lame.” It briefly passes his mind to ask about Bill’s dad, and why he’s so unbothered by his death… and also his brother, what happened to him? But again, only briefly. He doesn’t want to ruin the mood again, or have to think about his own problems.

So they get to the diner and he smiles and laughs with Bill the entire time, feeling happy and carefree in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

.

Meanwhile...

* * *

 

**Saturday, 09/01, late night; Unspecified Frat House**

Beverly leads the way to the kitchen, checking back every so often to make sure Ben is still behind her. Once there, she grabs a clean cup from the counter and scoops some jungle juice inside.

“So, has anyone ever told you you dress like a cowboy?” she asks.

.

Ben blushes because of her question, and sips from his recently filled cup. “Some people have.” He doesn’t know what to do now. She’s not moving, so he’s not moving either. “I guess it’s the belt.”

.

“And the leather jacket, and general ruggedness. It looks good, don’t worry.” Bev takes another sip. “What’s your major? Horseback riding?”

.

Ben blinks. So she thinks it looks good? A smile appears on his lips, and he can’t help but laugh even if he’s still embarrassed. “No, that’s not my major. But I do know how to ride a horse.” He takes a sip. “It’s architecture. What’s yours?”

.

Well Bev wasn’t expecting  _that_  answer at all (the one about the horse riding, of course). “Music.” Her answer comes out immediately, but she can feel herself becoming less enthusiastic about her major every time she says it. “What got you interested in architecture?”

.

“I don’t know. Guess I’ve always liked building things.” Ben shrugs and leans on the counter a little. “When I was a kid I used to make models of-” He stops himself, wondering if she’ll think he’s lame with his nerdy tastes. But he decides to tell her anyway. “Spaceships, cities, stuff like that.”

Suddenly, a long lost moment comes to his mind. There’s water. It’s blurry, almost like an echo of a real memory, and it passes so quickly he can’t tell exactly what it is. Except for one thing. “I used to build things with my friends too.” Ben frowns. He doesn’t know who those other kids were. He tries to remember their faces, but they’re only a fog in his mind that slowly starts to dissipate into nothingness.

He shakes his head. “Uhm. What about you? Why did you decide to pick Music?”

.

“Hmm, cute.” Beverly says before taking another sip and picturing Ben spending hours working every little detail into those model spaceships. She notices the expression on his face and is about to ask about it, but then he quickly changes subjects.

“Uh, well I was always interested in music and music theory, and I play the piano, so I thought it was okay. Now I’m not so sure. It’s alright… or I thought it would be, but…” She shrugs, blaming the alcohol for confessing all of this to him.

.

“You play the piano?” Ben grins. “That’s really cool. I’d like to li–” Halfway through his sentence he realizes what he was about to say may have come across as flirtatious. He coughs. “I’d like to learn too, one day.”

He keeps listening to her, intently, and tilts his head. “I’m sure you’ll find out if it’s alright, in your own time,” he says, a little too quickly, and avoids her eyes immediately, hoping that was okay to say.

.

Bev just shrugs again. “So if you’re living across the hall from Richie that means you’re a transfer too, right? Where’d you transfer from?”

.

“Uhm. Yeah, I’m a transfer. From California.” Ben narrows his eyes, smiling. “You’re a transfer too, I assume?”

.

As Bev starts to say something, a random guy shoves her to the side, closer to Ben. She isn’t even going to bother putting up a fight this time, since they are all wasted and she isn’t going to be the one to end the party because of a dumb kid with no manners. So she focuses on Ben. “Yep, from Ohio. Some would say it’s not nearly as glamorous as Cali, but I beg to differ. While you have  _your_  kale everything,  _we_ have our beer cheese soup… which is exactly what it sounds like.” She lets out a giggle and takes another sip of her juice, which thankfully didn’t get knocked out of her hand after she was pushed.

.

Ben frowns and squints after the guy who pushed her, but as soon as she gets closer he straightens himself up. He realizes it makes him hold his breath for a second. He gazes at her in fascination, her giggle makes his smile even wider, and he wonders how someone can shine so brightly in the middle of the night.

“You’re funny.”  He takes another sip. “California’s just normal, I think. Ohio is good, too.”

.

Bev can feel her face warming up from his smile. She also feels herself losing every bit of the strength she’s built up not to swoon over a guy within the first five minutes of meeting. So she turns her attention somewhere else and downs the rest of her drink.

“Well you’re… tall.” She taps her nails on the side of her red solo cup. “Ohio’s not that interesting, but nice to hang around in for a few years.”

.

“I guess I am kind of tall.” Ben laughs again. “There are taller people, though.”

.

“Yes and there are people shorter than me, it’s just facts.” Their height difference is a key component tonight. When Beverly doesn’t have her neck angled to look at his face, she’s busy looking at his torso, trying to make it look like she isn’t imagining laying her head on his chest.

.

Ben smiles and drinks from his cup, emptying it. “Cali’s nice, but my other college wasn’t as great as people make it out to be.” He sighs.

“Well, we both ended up in Maine one way or another. I think all the people I’ve talked to are transfers. It’s kinda funny.” Then he grabs the whiskey bottle and pours himself some more.

.

“What happened at your old school? Not enough country music lovers?” Beverly watches as he pours his drink, and then while she talks she steals Ben’s new cup of whiskey and places it inside her old empty cup. She smiles and takes a sip from what is now  _her_  cup of whiskey.

.

Dumbfounded, Ben observes how she steals his cup from his hands. When she does he can feel her skin brush against his, and he has to remind himself to close his mouth. If only he could tell his cheeks to calm down as well.

“Oh, okay. There it goes. Bye, cup.” The smile on his face won’t disappear and it makes him feel like an idiot, but that’s alright with him. It almost feels like he’s a kid again and head over heels for that nameless girl he used to like. He hadn’t thought about her in a while. “Okay, first of all, I’m not a  _country music lover._  I like other kinds of music. Though country music is not bad either, sometimes.” His words come out between laughs.

.

There is a  _major_ difference between whiskey and jungle juice, the realization of which becomes evident on Bev’s face as she takes another sip from her new cup, but nonetheless she drinks it anyway. She had a full cup of it now, so what else is she supposed to do? Throw it away? And in the end she’s pleased to have taken away Ben’s cup, because his reaction to it?  _Absolutely adorable._

“According to Mike, we’re all from Derry, too. Are you a part of the Derry Club?”

.

Ben’s about to answer her previous question, but the mention of Derry catches his attention more. “Yeah, Derry Club member right here. You too, I guess?” He scans the table and, lucky him, finds an empty cup. He fills it and takes a sip. “We really are all from Derry, apparently.”

Knowing that she is from the same place in which he spent his childhood is surprising to him, but it also feels right. Is that the reason she seemed so familiar before? “Maybe we knew each other.”

.

“Yep, Derry Club Member all the way.” Bev taps her cup against his as if to say ‘cheers!’ “I was born and raised there until I was about thirteen, and then I moved away to Portland. So I don’t remember much about it, do you?”

.

Ben raises his cup a little after the ‘cheers’ and drinks again. “I left when I was fifteen. Moved to Nebraska with my mom.” He stares at her for a moment, but avoids her eyes when she looks at him again. “I don’t remember much about it either. It’s… kinda foggy. I guess I was just too young or something.”

.

“Nebraska huh?” Bev slightly hesitates taking another sip. She enjoyed the jungle juice  _much_ more than what is in her cup now. “Is that where you learned all the tricks to the cowboy trade? That’s not even a rhetorical question. Like seriously, is that where you got your whole aesthetic?”

.

“Maybe so.” Laughing, Ben takes a sip while looking at her. “Good ol’ Nebraska. I had a friend there, an old man. Really cool and wise. I guess I picked it up from him.” He looks down at the floor, embarrassed by talking too much, and stops. Ben thinks she’s joking and probably doesn’t care that much about his life anyway.

“How about you? Tell me about Ohio,” he says, and quickly adds: “If- if you want, of course.”

.

“Old man had style too, then” Bev says, and lightly chuckles while looking down at her cup. “Well, nothing memorable happened in Ohio. It was my first time away from home, so naturally I went wild the first year and calmed down by my second year. Sophomore year came and things were going alright until I get this call from my aunt and uh -” She‘s about to admit her real reason for transferring back home, but decides against it. She still hasn’t told Patty, her roommate that she’s known for a bit longer, so why is it that Beverly feels more comfortable talking to Ben? “I just missed my aunt so I decided to stay close by.”

.

Ben continues to listen to her with drunken concentration. “I’m glad you’re closer to her now.” He smiles at her.

“Wait, you think I have style?” he asks with wonder in his voice, but immediately becomes flustered and coughs to cover his words.

.

“Yeah, there’s this whole _vibe_  you’ve got going on.” Beverly gesticulates on ‘vibe’ with her hand, motioning around his physique. “I really like it.” She meant to say that with a casual tone, but her voice betrays her, revealing an apparent attraction to cowboys Bev didn’t know she had.

.

The rosiness in Ben’s cheeks quickly expands to his entire face once he hears her compliment. He turns to face the crowd, hoping she won’t notice and mutters a little 'thank you’, then continues glancing at her from that angle.

“I think  _you_  have way more style. You’re very stylish. I mean…” He blinks, hoping she’s okay with his compliments. “Your clothes are very pretty.”

.

Bev takes a sip of her drink. “Thank you, it’s one of the things I take complete pride in. I think I might care more about what I wear in the morning than my actual classes.” She chuckles at that second statement, even though it is entirely true.

.

“That’s really cool. I don’t know much about clothes, but your outfit looks very well put together, you’ve done a great job.” Ben gives her a warm smile.

.

At this point, Richie strolls lazily into the kitchen. His buzz is wearing off. This always happens to him when he drinks too much - a numbness starts to take over unless he drinks more. Being a little cross-faded isn’t helping. He grabs an unopened beer can for Eddie and pours himself a rum and coke.

Before he leaves, he spots the red hair of Beverly and realizes she is talking to another friendly face. “Bev! Ben! What’s cookin’, good lookins?”

.

Bev is taking another sip of her drink when she notices Richie in the kitchen as well, and at that moment she also realizes they left Mike and Bill hanging outside. “Hey Richie!”

.

“Hi, Richie.” Ben pats Richie’s back when he gets close enough. He looks at Bev and then at Richie again, smiling. “So you guys know each other, too.”

.

“Sure do! We came to this shindig together.” Richie throws an arm around Beverly’s shoulders. “Hey Bevvvv,” he says to her sweetly, flashing a smile. “Do you have a cigarette I can steal from you, please?”

.

Beverly can already tell that the tone Richie is using is one to ask for a favor, so she’s not surprised by his question. “Of course, anything for  _you_ , Richie.” She takes out her pack of cigarettes. “How’s it going with uh - Eddie? That’s his name right?”

.

Ben observes how Richie puts his arm around her so comfortably, and lowers his eyes when he listens to Bev’s answer, concentrating in his cup. Then he glances at them again and drinks some more, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, and then looks back to the ground.

.

Richie takes a cigarette and places it behind his ear for later. “Things with Eddie are simply enchanting, my dear.” He sips his drink, leaning into Bev a little for balance.

.

“How’s your leg now, Richie?” Ben asks.

.

“Leg’s fineee. I took three ibuprofen this morning, mostly because my body was sore as fuck. Actually wait…” Something suddenly occurs to Richie. “Bev! This is cowboy guy Ben who saved my ass when I fell off the treadmill trying to show off!”

“Oh!” Richie sets his drink down to put his hand out, remembering her earlier request for cowboy guy’s number. “Gimme your phone, Bev.”

.

Bev isn’t even surprised by this news at this point.  _Of course_ Ben was the one to help Richie. She switches out her phone for the pack of cigarettes, unlocks it, and hands it to Richie. It doesn’t occur to her what he was planning on  _doing_  with it until her phone is out of her hands, and suddenly Bev’s face turns a bright red, so she just pays attention to the drink in her hands.

.

Richie opens up her contacts and types in  _Ben Handsome_ , then shoves it into Ben’s hand. “She said she wants the phone number of my savior.”

.

Ben watches this interaction with curiosity until Bev’s phone is in his hand. He blinks at Richie, perplexed and cautious. “What?” He looks at Bev and, after a few seconds, he speaks again with such hope in his voice that he’s unable to mask it. “You do?”

.

For once, Bev can’t talk. She is still stunned by how quickly that all happened. She gives Ben a warm smile and nods her head, then turns her attention to her drink again. After a few attempts at speaking, she finally gains the power to let out a few words, “Uh, yeah, I did say that.”

.

Ben can feel his heart jumping inside his chest faster and faster. He nods and smiles at her as he starts typing his number into her phone. Then he swallows and presses 'Save’, before slowly returning it back to her.

.

“Alright, my work here is done.” Richie plants wet, sloppy kisses on Ben’s forehead and Bev’s cheek. “Goodbye, precious humans.” He picks up the drinks and exits the kitchen to go back outside to Eddie.

.

In the time it takes for Richie to return, Eddie sits on the porch and spirals quite thoroughly into another round of panic - over his sudden loneliness, how embarrassing his behavior has been all night, and what his mother would say if she saw him right now.

 _‘What did I tell you? He’s not coming back, and why would he?’_ he can hear her in his head, clear as day, as he desperately tries to focus on regulating his breathing.  _‘You don’t make good choices, Eddie. That’s why you need me to take care of you.’_

.

When Richie finds Eddie, he’s sunk to the ground with his head down, breathing in deeply. Smiling, he plops down right next to him. “Need me to perform CPR? I’ll be happy to blow ya…  _some of my air_.”

.

Feeling movement beside him and hearing Richie’s words, Eddie looks up and tries to muster up an offended glare, but all he can manage to put on his face is worry. “I thought you might’ve left.”

.

Richie’s eyes search the brown, almost scared ones in front of him with confusion. He gives Eddie the beer slowly, then puts his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, pressing him into his side comfortably. “And miss the chance to keep bothering you? Unconscionable.”

.

Exhaling in a sigh, Eddie brings his knees up toward his chest and opens the beer. “You don’t bother me,” he says quietly. “Not really.”

.

Richie’s breath hitches involuntarily, which he tries to pass off as a cough. People only ever say he is troublesome or too much to handle, so hearing the opposite is mystifying. “I take back what I said earlier. I think _you’re_  the one taking  _my_  breath away tonight.”

.

“Don’t you ever get tired of saying things like that?” Eddie laughs and takes a sip of his beer, then he zones out a little, staring at the can in his hand. He’d been  _so_ caught up in his fear only moments ago, but now that Richie’s here it all seems to be dissolving so quickly.

.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about.” Richie grins.

.

“Yes you do,” Eddie says softly. 

.

“I never tire.” Except just as Richie says that, he yawns.  _“That_ doesn’t count.”

.

“It’s a little early to be yawning, don’t you think? Hopefully your second wind comes soon.” Eddie takes another couple of sips, then leans his head against Richie’s shoulder. Humming, he drums his fingers thoughtfully against the can.

“… I wish I knew you before now. Maybe we just ran with different crowds in Derry, but… I think things would have been different if I had a friend like you.” He looks up at Richie’s face again. “Is that weird to say?”

.

“It’s not weird. It's… nice.” But Eddie’s words hit Richie like a freight train. He can barely think of what else to say, and their faces are only inches apart for a second time this evening. “Wish I could’ve been there too. Bet you were a super cute kid.” Richie beams at him and pinches his cheek.

.

Eddie flushes red and swats Richie’s hand away, lifting his head to pout at him. “Don’t  _do_  that! I _hate_  -” He stops mid-sentence, brows knitting together in confusion.

He leans away from Richie a little, looking at him like he’d suddenly grown a second head. Maybe the fresh air hadn’t sobered him up as much as he thought, because for a second he feels something so much  _stronger_ than deja vu. But he shakes it off.

“I… I hate when people do that. Sorry. And - being 'cute’ isn’t the point.” What  _is_  the point, then? What had he been trying to imply before? That Richie would have somehow  _saved_  him? That’s just ridiculous. He takes another drink, his hands trembling now. “I just meant… something. I don’t know.”

.

Richie watches him, but doesn’t press further. “So what’s the game plan, rocket man?”

.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, a bit rattled by Richie’s abrupt change in subject.

.

“I don’t know. Getting kinda jittery, think I need to smoke.” Richie removes his hand from Eddie’s shoulder and puts his drink down to fish through his pocket for a lighter. He grabs the cigarette from behind his ear, then stands. “I can stand away for a couple minutes so it doesn’t get your face.”

.

“I don’t mind it,” Eddie says immediately. “I mean, so long as you’re not blowing it in my face on purpose, I guess.”

.

Richie puts out a hand to help Eddie to his feet. He yanks unnecessarily hard, making Eddie stumble into him. Then they walk toward the edge of the porch, Richie’s hand lingering on the small of Eddie’s back to guide him.

.

All Eddie can focus on is Richie’s touch, so he feels an immediate sense of loss when Richie removes his hand. It quickly fades though, and he smiles as Richie flicks the lighter and holds it up to the cigarette between his lips. He’s utterly mesmerized by these movements, gazing up at him with the kind of wistful focus that only comes after one too many drinks.

.

Back inside, Bev holds her phone in her hand, still a bit too shy to look directly at Ben. “Sorry about that. Richie told me the story of the treadmill, so I jokingly told him to get the number of the guy that helped him. Turns out it’s you… which I should’ve seen coming. You seem like the type to help people, it’s great.” She giggles as she puts her phone away. “Richie is… something else.”

.

Ben looks at Bev but then avoids her eyes again, thinking his heart really might burst out of his chest if he does, so he focuses on her hands. The whole exchange was all so sudden, and he felt so many emotions in such a tiny moment that he’s still left a little confused, but utterly happy.

“Thank you, it’s not - it’s not a big deal, really.” His voice is so soft it breaks in the middle, so he needs to clear his throat, trying to gain some confidence. He scratches the back of his head. “Should I… can I…?” He can’t bring himself to ask her, so he just takes out his phone and unlocks it before handing it to her, uncertain of her response. “If you want. I don’t know. Only if you want.”

.

Bev feels ready now to look at Ben without blushing, so that’s what she does (successfully) as she takes his phone. “Oh yeah, sure!” She gives him a smile and straightens up to type in her contact information. She thinks about putting an emoji for her name but considers it too much, so she’ll remain in his phone as  _Beverly Marsh._

.

Ben takes his phone back and looks at his new contact. “Beverly Marsh,” he says to himself.

“Beverly Marsh,” he says again in fuller voice, feeling the name rolling off his tongue like it is meant to be there. He grins at her while he puts his phone back in his pocket, and they stand there for a moment without talking, a peaceful and comfortable silence in the middle of a rowdy crowd. “Pleased to meet you, Beverly Marsh.” He offers her his hand.

.

As she shakes his hand, Bev starts to think all the alcohol is affecting her emotions; for a moment there she could’ve sworn there was a flutter in her heart as her skin touched his. She brushes it off as nothing, “Nice to meet you too, Ben uh - well, I’m going to guess that your last name isn’t  _Handsome._  That’s what Richie put for it. If it is, then you were aptly designed for it.”

.

Ben feels his cheeks warm.  _‘Wow, this girl really has a way with words.’_

He chuckles, gently holding Beverly’s hand. “No, it’s Hanscom. Ben Hanscom. But thank you. You too,” he says but then quickly continues: “I mean, you’re beautiful.”

.

“Thanks, Ben Hanscom.” It takes all the strength Beverly has not to kiss him right then and there, because there is no reassurance that it’s what she really wants. What if she feels different when she’s sober? How could she know whatever is going on between them isn’t just going to last one night?

.

He smiles, then suddenly vibrations from his phone catch his attention. He takes it back out and sees it’s a message from Mike.  _‘Shit.’_  Ben was so captivated by his conversation with Beverly that he forgot to go back out. He looks up at her. “Mike and Bill say they’re leaving.”

He turns back to his phone to read the message again, which makes him smile a little, and writes: _'Sorry, got distracted. Are you okay? Are you sure? We can come out now if you need it.’_

.

Bev’s thought process is interrupted by Mike’s text message. “So they’re leaving  _together?_  I hope you don’t go back to your dorm to find a sock on the door.”

.

“I hope I don’t either, or I’ll have nowhere to sleep. I could just sleep on the hallway, I guess.” Ben looks down at a new message from Mike and smiles. He types back, _'call in case you need it’_ and puts his phone away. “Mike says hi.”

.

“You could always sleep with me, no big deal,” Bev says nonchalantly, not realizing that the sentence suggests something besides her actual intentions. She swallows whatever whiskey is left in her cup, aware that maybe she shouldn’t have phrased it like that. “Well - no, I mean like you can crash in my room. I’m sure my roommate won’t mind.”

.

Ben raises his eyebrows and blinks for a couple of seconds with his mouth open, but unable to speak until he hears her explanation. “Oh, it’s okay.” He laughs, relieved. She’s drunk, so _that_ would’ve been out of the question for him. “It’s gonna be fine. Mike won’t actually do that, so don’t worry about me.” He takes a sip from his cup, trying to hide his embarrassment.

.

Beverly notices the expression on Ben’s face, even as he tries to hide it in an adorable way. Well… is the action itself adorable? Or is it only because it’s  _Ben_  that it’s adorable? Bev doesn’t know the answer, so she instead tries to think of a way to change the awkward atmosphere. “Hey, why don’t we go play a game or something? There’s gotta be beer pong somewhere, right?”

.

Ben takes a little too long to take that sip, until she talks again and changes the topic. “Yeah! Okay, that sounds alright. Richie and Eddie were playing there a while ago, in the basement.” He leaves his now empty cup on the table and follows her out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> Ben - [ao3: hanscomarsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanscomarsh); [tumblr: hanscomarsh](https://hanscomarsh.tumblr.com)  
> Beverly - [ao3: bcnvcrly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcnvcrly); [tumblr: bcnvcrly](https://bcnvcrly.tumblr.com)  
> Bill - [ao3: hiyo_silver_away](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyo_silver_away); [tumblr: hiyo-silver-away](https://hiyo-silver-away.tumblr.com)  
> Mike - [ao3: mikehanlonstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikehanlonstan); [tumblr: mikehanlonstan](https://mikehanlonstan.tumblr.com)  
> 


	17. Frat Party Part 4 - Of Vomit & Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the night comes to a close, Richie and Eddie get to know each other better and finally have their “first” kiss. Meanwhile, all of Bev’s drinking catches up to her, but luckily Ben is a True Gentleman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Saturday, 09/01, late night; Unspecified Frat House**

Out on the porch, Richie inhales the smoke from his cigarette, happily quenching that nicotine itch. “So I don’t think I ever asked. Why did you transfer to Maine?”

.

The question makes Eddie cringe, but at this point he’s too drunk to stealthily dodge the topic, and something about the way Richie looks at him makes him want to talk anyway.

“It’s a long story,” he starts, shrugging. He drinks more, ruminating for a moment on how to phrase it in the least damaging way he can. “Freshman year was my first time being away from my mom, and I didn’t handle the freedom of the city very well. It ended up being a whole  _thing_  by the end of the year, so I moved back home and went to community college. But after being away from her for a while, being there again was so  _suffocating_ , and my asthma got really, really bad. We got into a lot of arguments, too, about… like, the kind of person I am…”   
  
He looks out over the lawn, feeling mildly uncomfortable with how much he’s sharing, even though he’s trying to be vague. “I kind of ran away… and ended up with my grandparents - my dad’s parents - a few months ago. I was planning to go back home once summer ended, but they convinced me that staying in Maine would be better.” He shrugs and looks at Richie again. “So… yeah. It’s all pretty stupid, I guess.”

.

“It’s not stupid to change your life if it isn’t going the way you want. It’s actually pretty fucking brave.” Richie stares at Eddie, unable to contain his admiration. He breathes in some smoke and lets it out slowly from the side of his mouth. “Have you spoken to your mom since leaving?”

.

Eddie frowns, wondering if Richie had even heard a word he said, because that just isn’t how he sees the situation at all.

“It feels more pathetic than  _brave_ ,” he says, sure that nothing he’s ever done could qualify as such. In fact, his momentary delusions of bravery are usually what end up hurting him the most. He doesn’t even  _need_  his mother to tell him that, because history speaks for itself.

He leans back against the porch railing, propping his elbows up on the white painted wood behind him. "My mom calls me all the time. I try to keep the conversations short, though. She’s really disappointed in me for staying here.”

.

“Wow, I’m lucky if I get a couple of minutes on the phone with my mom. Although, your situation doesn’t sound very lucky.” Richie holds his cigarette over the railing and lightly taps some ash off the end. “And what you did is not pathetic. You weren’t happy, so you took steps to be happy. Well, happ _ier_  I assume. Unless you aren’t happy, then everything I just said is poppycock.” He says the last phrase with a lazy British accent.

.

Eddie giggles at the accent, then tilts his head back to look up at the sky. “I really don’t know  _what_  I am.”

.

“You’ll figure it out. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in thirty years…” Richie bumps Eddie’s shoulder lightly so that he looks at him. “…but eventually.”

.

Eddie looks at him with a small, mischievous smile. “If I haven’t figured out whether or not I’m happy in  _thirty years_ , kill me.”

.

The surprisingly morbid joke causes Richie to snort out a laugh. “Can’t kill you. I won’t be done with you by then.”

.

Eddie’s eyes widen, taken aback by that implication. But he’s not about to be outdone, so he smirks and slides over, closer to Richie. “Getting a little ahead of yourself, hm? But good to know you’re not the kinda guy who’s afraid of commitment.”

.

Richie raises his eyebrow at Eddie’s comment, and his closeness. “Only thing I’m afraid of are clowns.”

.

“Only clowns? I don’t believe that. There are other, scarier things in this world,” Eddie says, smiling coyly and moving in closer still, so that his shoulder is now brushing up against Richie’s chest. 

.

“Like what?” Richie breathes. His hand with the cigarette shakes a little.

.

Eddie hums. “Liiiike…”  _You._  “Horrifying diseases, umm, I dunno.”  _Everything._  “Not being good enough? Clean enough.” For a split second, he pictures rotting skin and a hoarse laugh, a hand reaching… “And people - bad people.”

.

“Bad people have no right to even  _look_  at you,” Richie says immediately. Then, a flash of a terrible person from his own past comes to mind. “There used to be this bully that tormented me as a kid. I used to fear him a lot. But at some point he stopped having power over me. I stopped giving him that power, I guess. My friends got me through it.” He tries to remember what specific friends, but no one comes to mind.

.

Eddie laughs lightly. “You can’t stop people from  _looking_ at me.” He takes a sip of his beer, still smiling. “But yeah, bullies suck. Although, you know, I spent my whole youth being called a fag and here I am. They were onto something, I guess.”

He pauses and looks down at the can he’s holding. “I feel bad for people like that. They must lead such awful lives in order to become so awful themselves, you know? I like to think they’re all good, deep down - just misguided. Even the worst ones. They just need to be taught kindness, and love.”

.

Richie looks at him, impressed but also surprised. He cannot believe that anyone could really think everyone is innately good. “I don’t think I could ever be so optimistic about people. Most people don’t even know  _how_  to love, so how can they be expected to teach it to each other?”

.

“All you need is one person who’s capable of that, then it’s a domino effect,” Eddie replies simply. “Don’t you think everyone deserves a second chance?”

.

Richie looks off into the dark distance, thinking about his parents briefly, and then about his own shortcomings. “People don’t change, no matter how many chances you give them.” His voice cracks a little on the end. “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

.

Eddie’s face falls, feeling Richie’s doubt radiating off of him. “I don’t believe that at all.” He brings his free hand up to rest against Richie’s neck, thumb brushing over his jaw. “Everyone can become better, if they want to.”

He smiles, a little sadly. “I mean, I can’t think of any examples from my  _own_  life, but I’ve never been more sure of anything.” He laughs softly and removes his hand. “If you can’t have faith in people, then what’s the point?”

.

Richie shivers at Eddie’s touch and misses it the second it leaves his skin. But what makes him truly emotional are his gentle words. “You’re probably right.” He pushes his glasses up to his forehead because they’ve fogged over a bit.

.

“I definitely am.” Eddie’s gaze lingers for a moment, sensing that for some reason this topic of conversation is making Richie uncomfortable. So, as he finishes off the rest of his beer, he decides to be merciful and not draw the moment out. “Hey… when you’re done with that, we should go back inside and dance some more.”

.

“I’m basically done with it anyway,” Richie says without much thought. He puts out the cigarette. “Lead the way.”

.

Grinning, Eddie grabs Richie’s hand and leads him inside, leaving his empty beer can behind on the porch.

.

Meanwhile, Ben and Bev make their way to the basement. It’s somewhat more crowded than the kitchen, so Ben ends up a little bit closer to Bev than before. He looks around and sees people playing, but no familiar faces.

“What should we play?” He turns to her and jokingly stands at attention, like a soldier would as he expects instructions from his superior, with a smile on his face.

.

There is a large group surrounding the beer pong game and Bev assumes it’s coming to an end, because as more people cheer on, the more vacant spots there are for Ben and Bev to hang out by. She scouts for a potential hang out spot, and luckily she finds one with empty (hopefully clean) cups and a couple of unopened beer bottles.

“Hmm, think you can stomach a few more drinks?” Bev gestures to Ben to follow her to the empty table. “How about some flip cup?”

.

Ben gives her a sly grin as he follows her. “Yeah, I think can. Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, standing right beside her while they start arranging the cups.

.

Bev tilts her head and gives Ben a sweet smile. “What? You don’t think I can handle it?” She grabs a beer bottle and opens the top off with the help of the ring on her finger, still looking at him she hands the bottle over.

.

“Wow, okay.” Ben laughs, wondering how she can be so adorable and so cool at the same time. He raises his hands a little and shakes his head. “Nope, I trust you.” He puts his hands down again and grabs the bottle, then starts pouring it in the cups.

.

The two set up the game so that they can play alone and move from one cup to the next easily, then they each get on their side of the table. “Ready?” Once Bev gets the okay, she starts counting down, and the game is on. The race starts off strong, both anxious to win and putting on a competitive front as they move down the line of cups, alternating drinking and flipping, but the match is also very entertaining for them both.

Halfway through the race, Bev lands in the lead, chugging beer after beer, and ultimately wins! But who ever really doubted that she wouldn’t be victorious? The small group of people nearby celebrate her win with cheers and everything is going great, until Beverly feels her face warm up and her breathing becomes uneasy.

.

Ben can’t win, but he’s not even bothered. He pretends to be offended for a moment but her little victory jump warms his heart, and he starts clapping a little too hard along with the crowd. He lets her celebrate and observes her with a gentle smile on his face until he notices a sudden change in her expression. “Everything okay?”

.

Beverly nervously shakes her head, aware of what’s coming next. She thinks of attempting to drag Ben outside with her, but she knows that would just slow her down. So her hand grazes Ben’s wrist before she rushes out of the room, up the stairs, and to the front entrance of the house.

.

Bev’s out of Ben’s sight in the blink of an eye. Since he felt her hand touch his wrist, he figures she wants him to follow, so as soon as she leaves, he runs after her.

.

Once outside, Bev’s footsteps race down the porch stairs as she finds a nearby bush to puke next to. She’s blowing chunks, blue from the jungle juice, and trying to keep her hair out of her face, not even caring about the other students nearby. It’s a party - people throw up sometimes.

.

When Ben gets to the front porch he sees Bev running and immediately understands what’s going on. He arrives at her side and gently holds her hair out of her face, eyes looking up so she won’t be embarrassed.  "It’s okay, it’s okay,“ he speaks softly.

.

Throwing up feels like forever to Bev, but in reality it doesn’t take that long to get what she needs out of her body. Ben’s words are consoling, but she’s slightly mortified that he’s seeing her like this. Once she’s done, she wipes away any remnants of puke on the back of her hand. "Sorry you had to see that… I think I should just go back to my dorm now.”

.

“What do you mean? I didn’t  _see_  anything.” Ben smiles, lets her hair down again, and looks inside his pockets for a napkin or something that could be used as such, but there’s nothing except for his phone and wallet. He reaches up to fix a strand of her hair behind her ear but stops right before he touches her skin, trying to mask the action by moving his hand towards his own hair.

“It’s okay, really, that happens sometimes.” He shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. “But yeah, dorm now. Good idea. I can’t let you go alone though, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll walk you there. We’re both in the same building anyway.”

.

“That sounds alright with me, Benny.” Bev pops a couple pieces of gum in her mouth in an attempt to hide the odor of thrown up liquor. Then she fishes a Wet-Nap out of her purse and uses it to wipe her hands off. She’s kind of glad she has Ben with her, which is not to say Patty wouldn’t be good company as well, but Beverly can already tell she can trust Ben Hanscom, a feeling which doesn’t come often with boys.

The thought of his name alone brings comfort to her heart. Even if tonight’s feelings are  _only_  reserved for tonight, that would be alright with her; it will give her something to smile about in class. Her hand just so happens to grab his, only to bring his body closer to hers, and she puts his arm around her shoulders. Her hand isn’t letting go of his yet, however. “It’s for support, y'know?”

.

Ben is surprised by her sudden touch and smiles at her. Being suddenly so close to her makes him feel nervous at first, but the sensation is so comfortable he quickly starts to feel at ease, although his blush doesn’t go away. “Of course.” As soon as he says that, he stumbles a little to the side along with her. “Guess I kinda need it, too.”

And like this, they walk away from the house.

.

When Eddie and Richie arrive back on the dance floor, the level of drunken grinding and making out has definitely increased, but Eddie’s too far gone himself to be put off by it. The walls seem to be pounding with the beat of a ‘Cruel Summer’ remix, and they find a spot for themselves pretty easily. Eddie turns to Richie right away, sliding his arms around his neck without giving it a second thought and quickly establishing a rhythm. 

.

Richie feels the temperature of his body rise exponentially as he lets Eddie tug him in, and he places his hands gently on Eddie’s waist. It’s dark in the living room with just some LED lights shining from multiple directions, and big, dark eyes are staring up at him in a way no one else has: with true trust.

.

Eddie leans into Richie, more uninhibited now than he was earlier. In his current state, he just wants to feel Richie against him and get as much contact as he can, no longer caring so much about how he looks dancing. He keeps their eyes locked as he moves one hand to thread his fingers into Richie’s hair.

“You don’t have to be so gentle, I won’t break,” he says loudly over the music, blushing at his own boldness. He can’t remember the last time he actually wanted to  _encourage_  someone to pursue him instead of just passively letting it happen, but the desire feels somehow familiar.

.

Richie sighs as Eddie’s fingers slowly run through his hair. “I’m more worried about  _you_  breaking  _me_ ,” he admits with a smile, and slides his hands to the small of Eddie’s back, pushing them together to the point of virtually no space being left.

.

Eddie laughs, but he looks a bit concerned. “What do you mean?”

They move to the beat of the ‘Cruel Summer’ remix, and while he would normally be worried about getting looks and comments from people because of their gender, right now Eddie can only focus on Richie.

.

Richie leans his head closer so their foreheads touch. “‘Cause you’re dangerous, Kaspbrak.”

.

Eddie curls his other hand into the fabric of Richie’s t-shirt and closes his eyes, the intimacy of the moment causing his heart to race. For the second time tonight, he’s reminded of another party, another person, and for the second time, he feels so sure that this time it’s  _right._

“I’ve been told that before. I’m not going to pretend I understand why.”

Richie may not be the first person to say he’s dangerous, for whatever reason, but what’s surprising is that for once  _Eddie_  feels like there is nothing to be afraid of.

.

“You don’t need to know why. Cuter that way,” Richie says, their breath mingling.

.

Eddie, realizing in this moment just how close their lips are, takes a sharp breath and ducks his head onto Richie’s shoulder instead. “You smell good,” he says, not sure whether he’s speaking loud enough for Richie to hear him - or whether he even wants him to.

“You smell like…”  _Home._  “Um, I just usually hate the smell of smoke, so it’s… funny, I guess. That I like it, on you.” He laughs nervously.

.

“ _You_  smell like fruit.” Richie, always one to live life as a farce, opens his mouth near Eddie’s neck to pretend to eat him. “Nom nom nom, Eddie.”

.

This breaks Eddie out of his reverie pretty effectively and he laughs loudly, tilting his head away from Richie’s fake onslaught. “Ew, stop! Don’t be a turd!” He playfully smacks Richie’s shoulder and leans back, but he’s still laughing and not  _really_ trying to get out of his grasp.

.

Richie laughs at being called a ‘turd’ and feels a warmth of memory pass through him. Someone else used to call him that, and it never failed to make him laugh. He pulls Eddie in closer again, still laughing.

.

Eddie continues to giggle drunkenly as Richie tightens his hold on him, but then he catches Richie’s eyes and his laughter fades abruptly, lips parting slightly as he catches his breath. They’re close again - closer than before. The song changes to something faster, a remix of Toto’s ‘Africa’, but he doesn’t continue dancing. Instead he just keeps staring up at Richie, focused only on him, both hands gripping his shoulders to keep himself stable.

.

As Eddie’s lips part, Richie fights every single urge to close the distance. He cannot stop the image of what it would look like, feel like,  _be like_  to kiss Eddie. What unnerves him is a phantom memory telling him these thoughts have crossed his mind before this week. An overwhelming, unstoppable pining that went unrequited for a long time. At least… he’s pretty sure it was one-sided.

That memory brings with it a burning shame which he pushes down, because it doesn’t matter. Eddie is looking at him like he is the only person in the room. Therefore, he should allow himself a glimmer a hope that something magnetic is happening. And Eddie’s eyes are so expressive, Richie can read every single emotion in them like they’re displayed on a 70” HD television. Except that his brain cannot properly  _comprehend_  those emotions. He can barely register anything as Eddie grips his shoulders tightly.  
  


“There’s something really fucking special about you. I can’t figure out what it is. But I know it’s true,” Richie says, the words rushing out with staggered breathing. He can’t keep his hands from gripping Eddie tighter, as if he might disappear at any moment and leave him forever.

.

At this point, they are standing perfectly still in the middle of a crowded room, with ‘Africa’ blaring from the speakers around them, and Eddie is drunk - he  _knows_ he’s drunk,  but he couldn’t care less right now. Richie isn’t the first person to call Eddie special, but he’s the first person Eddie  _believes_. He can feel it in his gut that it isn’t just a line, and he considers the possibility that maybe  _nothing_  Richie has said to him up to this point has been a line.

Maybe he truly has just been putting himself out there, without fear. Eddie wants so badly to be fearless like that, to stop waiting passively for everyone else to make decisions for him. So in this moment, he decides to take a risk, thanks in part to the alcohol and in part to…  _something_ , something buried deep within him that he can’t quite place.  
  
He slides his hands up to cup Richie’s face, the move he instinctively  _wanted_  to do after their movie date but couldn’t bring himself to. For a split second, he considers leaving it at just that - a simple but intimate touch - but he doesn’t want to turn back now. He knows Richie wants to kiss him, he’s known all night, but waiting only brings wasted opportunities. And he doesn’t want to waste this.

So, he surges up on his toes to press his lips to Richie’s, perhaps a little less softly than intended, but still tentatively.

.

Richie’s heart is ready to burst out of his chest once Eddie’s lips are on his, soft and incredible. However, he cannot fully enjoy it, as he is frozen in place and for perhaps the first time in his life, his mind has gone completely blank. He’s not moving.  _Why_  is he not moving his lips? He kisses people all the time! What is happening to him?

He has stopped breathing, and his eyes are open but unseeing, having basically gone catatonic. There is a ringing in his ears that almost overpowers the beating of his heart.

.

Eddie expects to be kissed back, based on Richie’s persistent flirting, but when that doesn’t happen his heart rate switches from anticipatory to frantic in an instant. Could he have really misread the situation that badly??

He pulls back and drops his hands, eyes wide and apologetic. “Sorry! I - um…”

.

Richie’s brain catches up the second Eddie pulls away. The loss of his lips and intimate presence is too much to bear, so he brings his head down and crashes their lips together, cutting off anything more Eddie was about to say. Then Richie is kissing him, drawing Eddie against him, their bodies fitting perfectly despite their height difference. Every curve, hollow, and crevice seem to close between them as his arms hug Eddie to him strongly.

His stomach is doing backflip after backflip as he kisses harder, increasing the pressure. He can feel the rapid beat of Eddie’s heart, which is going as fast as is own, and taste the bitterness of beer lingering on his mouth.

Richie wants to drown in everything that is Eddie.

.

Eddie melts into the kiss, one arm thrown around Richie’s neck. His knees go weak when it becomes more intense, so he brings his other hand up and clings tightly to the front of Richie’s shirt. Blaming the alcohol for how lightheaded he feels would be so easy, but he can’t, because he’s been kissed drunkenly before, and it has never felt like this. It’s never felt so simultaneously real and like a dream… or a memory.

His heart is pounding, and suddenly he can feel tears stinging the corners of his eyes for reasons he can’t begin to fathom. It isn’t long before their environment catches up to him, though, and he breaks away but remains close, breathing against Richie’s skin.

“This um, might not be the best place,” he says, just loud enough for Richie to hear, as he thinks about the types of people around them and how conservative this part of Maine can be. “We could go somewhere else…” He looks up at Richie meaningfully.

.

“Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to seduce me,” Richie says before giving Eddie’s lips one more quick kiss. He throws his arm over Eddie’s shoulders and steers him out of the living room. There are some students staring at them, but Richie ignores them easily.

Before leaving, they steal some more beers and then are out the door, on their way back to York Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> Ben - [ao3: hanscomarsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanscomarsh); [tumblr: hanscomarsh](https://hanscomarsh.tumblr.com)  
> Beverly - [ao3: bcnvcrly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcnvcrly); [tumblr: bcnvcrly](https://bcnvcrly.tumblr.com)  
> 


	18. Ben & Beverly Take a Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the party, Ben walks Bev back to the dorms, but they take a little bit of a detour to drunkenly lay on some grass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Saturday, 09/01, late night; UMaine Campus**

As they leave the party, Bev stumbles along as Ben does. “Hey, shouldn’t you be the one walking  _me_  home, Cowboy?” she teases and giggles, feeling the warmth Ben brings along with his tall stature. Close to what she predicted before, Bev’s head lands right about where Ben’s chest and neck meet. It’s cozy; maybe if they were lying down she might fall asleep in his arms.

She shakes her head, moving onto any other thought, a bit disappointed in herself for falling for the ‘cowboy’ tonight. Maybe it was just his _thing_. He has probably been this way with another girl before, but Bev doesn’t want to think about that although it’s where her mind naturally takes her.  _‘Time to move onto something else. Anything else.’_  “So, did you ever go through a horse phase? Y'know, like those girls in elementary that become obsessed with horses and dedicate all their conversations to them?”

.

“A horse phase?” Ben laughs. “No, I didn’t go through a  _horse phase_.” He stops and thinks for a moment. “I went through a _Star Wars_  phase. It hasn’t stopped, though. Not really.”

.

“Star Wars, huh? Never would’ve guessed you‘re a secret geek. The franchise is iconic, though, so I can see the appeal… Wait, so when you said you used to make models of things as a kid, were you talking about the  _Millennium Falcon?_ ” Bev giggles, imagining him again as a kid, but this time she visualizes a small and chubby kid rearranging spaceships. The memory is strangely vivid, as if she’s there watching him as he builds.

.

Ben nods. “Well, it’s not so secret, to be honest. And yeah, one of them is the Millennium Falcon. It’s one of my favorites.”

He continues walking without losing balance again, checking their surroundings every so often to make sure they’re safe. He may have stumbled, but he’s still sober enough to know what he’s doing and look out for any possible threats. “What about you? Were  _you_  obsessed with horses? Cowboys, maybe?” He smiles down at her.

.

“Horses, no. Cowboys… not really. I haven’t developed a liking to  _them_  until recently.” Bev looks up at him and gives him a smile. While noticing how close their faces are, she also can’t help but look at his lips. They’re  _right there_ , how could she not? Abruptly, she turns her attention back to their oncoming pathway.

.

Ben looks into her eyes as she speaks, unable to erase his grin. Her words make his face warm, and it only intensifies as he notices how close she is. His head is starting to spin, but he’s not sure what’s the reason for that. The alcohol must be getting to him.

He turns to face the street at the same time she does, not knowing exactly what to say.

.

“But, yeah, horses are cool, too.” Bev lets out a chuckle. “I’ve never ridden a horse before, can’t imagine it’s like riding a bike though. Like that’s a whole ass animal you’re on!”

It’s like she has never completely thought about using an animal as transportation, or it was a brand new idea that she just found out about. Speaking of transportation, she  _does_  wish she had some sort of way to just teleport to her room right now.

“I think it’s about time I rode a horse. Some girls got to ride ponies when they were like, seven. Why can’t I do it now, y’know? Like, obviously I’m way too big for a pony, but like, a  _horse_. Shit, it’s so cool that you know how to ride horses.”

.

Ben chuckles. “A ‘whole ass animal’, damn right! It’s completely different. And you have to take into consideration the horse’s well-being too. You don’t wanna ride an angry horse. I’m talking from experience. My boss had a few horses and he told me I could learn, but the one he picked on the first day was kinda miffed and he just threw me off.” He grimaces at his own memory - seventeen year old Ben Hanscom getting thrown into the air and almost knocked out but ultimately saved by his boss. “But if you’re careful with them and yourself, it should go just fine. Never too late to ride a horse. I could help you, but we have to find one first.”

.

“Hmm… Angery Horse™…” Bev mumbles to herself, suddenly sad about thinking of an animal in distress. There’s a moment of happiness when Ben agrees with her and offers to help, but it’s back to mild heartache when he mentions that they don’t have a horse to practice on. "Welp, I just have to make do with what I’ve got.”

She escapes from his grasp to get behind him, pats his back and reaches for his shoulders. “C'mon, piggyback! Pleeeaaase?”

.

“What are you talking about? Oh, we’re doing this. Okay.” Ben laughs and lowers himself enough for her to wrap her arms around his neck. “Piggyback it is. Your wish is my command.”

He raises her easily and holds her legs on each side, turning his head a little so he can look back at her from the corner of his eye. “Are we good?” he asks, smiling.

.

Bev only half expects Ben to go along with her plan, so she’s excited when he agrees. She gasps as he lifts her up, but soon appreciates the view from up there. As Ben turns his head, she’s a bit shook by how close in proximity their faces are. If she was a bit closer she could  _probably_ …

“Mhm, let’s go.”

.

Ben looks into her eyes, nods, and turns his face back to the sidewalk to make sure they don’t fall on their faces. “Where to, captain?”

.

Bev giggles, just having the time of her life with Ben. Despite pointing at York Hall to answer his question, since it’s destined that their night will end once they reach it, she wishes tonight would go on forever.

.

Ben starts walking towards their building. He steps on a green area in order to cross it and get to York Hall faster, but the situation and the alcohol are making them both laugh harder, so much so that it makes his steps slow and sort of erratic. He decides it’s dangerous to continue, so after a moment he lowers himself once more and gently puts her down on the grass.

“Alright, I’m sorry, that piggyback was shorter than expected,” he says between laughs. “I think I’ll have to owe you another one.”

.

Beverly pouts as she’s set down, and so she just lays on the grassy knoll. She quickly notices the lawn is cold and it brings her a small shiver. “No worries, Benny. But do expect that I’ll be taking you up on that piggyback offer sometime soon.”

.

“Of course, I’ll be waiting,” Ben says with rosy cheeks, and smiles at her.

.

Bev sits up straight for a moment, looking around at their surroundings. She doesn’t see many other students out, at least not where Ben and Bev are located, so she holds out her hands for him to reach. “I’m sorry, I’ve called you Benny twice, is it okay if I call you that?”

.

“It’s completely fine. I like it.” Ben holds her hands to help her stand up.

.

“Great. I think I’ll mostly be calling you ‘Cowboy’ from now on, but it’s good for reference.” Contrary to Ben’s belief, Bev is actually trying to drag him down to the ground as well. She uses all her strength for it, considering he’s a big guy and all, and lets out a small chuckle. “Sorry, but I’m not getting up. On the bright side, now you can see closer to my usual line of sight.”

.

Ben is so staggered by this that he immediately falls down with her, hitting the ground a bit too hard with the side of his torso and shoulder, but it only makes him giggle. “I’m glad we didn’t stop on concrete,” he says, and while he’s adjusting himself he realizes that, because of the pull, she drew him closer towards her.

He’s now looking at her like a drunk, happy fool. He laughs nervously, avoiding her eyes for a second, and sits down properly next to her. Then he clears his throat and looks at her again, smiling. “I like this line of sight. It’s a nice view.”

.

“Well, if this was concrete then you would’ve felt what it was like when I fell on my bike.” Beverly immediately regrets saying that and puts her, hands over her mouth, but she quickly takes them down to say her next piece. “I’m sorry, I’m completely over it now. I swear.”

She places a piece of hair behind her ear, blushed cheeks forming as she smiles back at Ben. “But yeah, I like this view too.“

.

Ben stares at her, surprised. He’d been so happy that he completely forgot about the accident. But she didn’t. And she’ll probably remember the next day, and the day after that. There’s a possibility she won’t be really over it when they’re both sober, so, what does he think he’s doing? Beverly Marsh is never going to want him around, and Ben Hanscom is stupidly thinking he has a chance with the only girl that has really captivated him in so many years. _'She’s just drunk, Ben. So are you.’_

"Yes, you’re right.” He smiles and waits for a moment before adding jokingly, “No phone here, though.”

.

Bev softly chuckles at his joke, still regretting that she even brought up the accident in the first place, but at least he made a joke over it. So that means it’s all good now, right? She sighs.

The tenderness in Ben’s voice, the contrast of warm skin and the cool breeze, and the lull across the campus are all things contributing to the ambiance Beverly is soaking in.

She scoots closer to him, closing off any space between the two, and rests her head on his shoulder. “You ever take astronomy?”

.

When she gets closer, Ben shivers at her touch. He feels the need to recoil, almost like she’s burning, but he decides to remain in the fire.

“No, not really. I like to think about it, though.” His voice is soft again as he looks up. Perhaps too soft. His eyes gets lost in the sky, begging the universe for a wishing star that would make his dream come true, that this moment is real and could last forever.

But the night is quiet and dark, and there’s nothing there. She’s going to forget him tomorrow.

“What about you?”

.

“No, but that just means I can yell out random statements about our solar system and you can pretend that I’m right about them,” Bev suggests with a smile, a giggle coming from her lips as she looks up at Ben. “What is it about astronomy you like to think about?”

.

“A galaxy far, far away,” Ben says, and laughs. He wants to rest his head on hers but his doubts stop him, so he chooses to only observe and listen to her calming voice.

“The cosmic order,”  he says as he turns his face to the sky again. “Ancient civilizations studied the sky and some, influenced by these alignments, shaped their architecture from it. The order and structure made things better. Sacred.” On his face, a blissful, almost childlike grin appears. “They worshiped the stars, wanted to learn about them, understand them, so they created instruments to do it. Without the stars, there would be no math or technology.”

A cool breeze comes and without realizing it he gets closer to Beverly. “Constellations are wonderful. I like the patterns you can find among them. And extraterrestrial civilizations are interesting as well. Can you imagine how the cities would look? Or the starships. I know it’s not likely, but a guy can dream.” He shrugs, suddenly self-aware of how much time he’s spent on the topic.

He looks at her again, with pink cheeks and an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m talking too much, I guess it’s the alcohol.” He stares at his hand, resting it lazily over his leg. “Do you like any constellations?”

.

A flutter in her heart grows the more Ben talks, and for a moment Beverly Mash goes heart eyes for him, before looking at the sky when she notices him look back at her. “No, please don’t apologize. That was…” She searches through her vocabulary to find any one word to describe what she just witnessed. “Amazing.”

She would gladly volunteer to hear him go on and on about his thoughts, but she figures that he probably wants to go back to his dorm soon instead of taking care of some drunk girl he just met. “I like Canis Major. I’ve never seen it before, but I’ve been told it’s in the shape of a dog and that’s good enough for me to like it.”

.

“Canis Major! Yeah, good choice. It’s beautiful.” Ben smiles when she looks at him. “Well, all constellations are beautiful.” Her eyes shine, reflecting the moonlight, and it leaves him absolutely mesmerized as he continues looking into them like he has been enchanted.

The dizziness from the alcohol increases while he focuses on the freckles on her face as if he is trying to memorize them, as if he wants to treasure every single one of them inside his heart for when she leaves him behind. Maybe that’s exactly what he’s doing, but he wouldn’t know, as his mind is calmly flying away someplace else he can’t describe. There’s no way to escape, and he’s not going to try. At least not for tonight.

“You’re a constellation,” he whispers.

.

This time, Beverly is left completely speechless, no words or noise coming out. Her mouth is hanging open while her core is doing flips. This is not a simple heart flutter or a warming sensation she feels, no, she is convinced her heart is about to jump out of her chest. The other (and more probable) answer is that all three options are happening at the same time.

Beverly hasn’t felt this way in a long time, not that she can quite pinpoint exactly when she’s had this feeling before. It must’ve been ages ago, but it’s familiar.

She can’t tell if her emotions are running wild because she’s drunk and is now falling for a line, or if she actually _feels something_  for Ben. She doesn’t want to accuse him of using a line on her and ruin the moment, but she also doesn’t want to succumb entirely to his compliment. So she finds a medium: she leaves a small peck on his shoulder and stares back at the sky with a bright smile, trying to casually continue while also longing to do more.

.

The realization of what he said and what just happened only comes to Ben after she’s looking back at the sky. He stares at her, unable to move. He thinks he can feel the warmth of her subtle kiss lingering on his skin, under his clothes. They spend a small moment of silence there, until the wind against the foliage of the trees surrounding them decides to interrupt it and Ben speaks again, “What interests you, Beverly?”

.

“Music… but not music classes. Music alone is powerful. Serious or not, it can make all the difference. Kinda like how in movies, without the score a lot of scenes are quiet in an awkward way. Or in a meme, how just the right song can make everyone die from laughter.” Bev chuckles to herself as a million memes come to mind. “Also, not to sound fake-deep or anything, but it’s true how music is the universal language. It has the power to move souls, affect moods, and bring us to our feet. Sure, everyone has a different music taste but that’s what makes it so amazing; you’ll always find new music to listen to, new music to form opinions on.”

.

Ben listens to her, concentrated and amazed, with big eyes and a warm, happy feeling in his heart, which he can feel jumping and dancing inside his chest. He wants to know everything he can about her, every detail he can remember. “Universal language. It doesn’t sound fake deep at all. I think it’s great and very smart.” He smiles softly. “You sound so passionate. It’s wonderful.”

.

Fatigue is finally starting to hit Bev, so she lets out a yawn and rests her head on Ben’s shoulder again. “I probably could give a better speech if I wasn’t tired.” She closes her eyes, knowing that it’s best for them to go to their dorms now, but she wants to take in the scene one last time.

.

It seems to Ben like the most adorable yawn in the world, and her sleepy voice melts his heart. “Okay, it’s time to go. Bev?” He looks at her with her eyes closed and his smile gets wider. “You can’t sleep here, come on.”

The wind blows again and Ben shivers slightly. “Are you cold? I can lend you my jacket if you want. Until we get there, I mean.”

.

Beverly pouts and slouches as a sign of disappointment when Ben tells her they should go. “Nah, I think I’m good here. Just leave me, the sun will be my alarm clock. It’ll be fine.” She lies down on the grass and turns to her side, attempting at making herself comfortable. She thinks, _'Maybe I can sleep for five minutes…’_

“If you do go though, help me make a pillow out of grass before you leave. Oh wait, leaves… they would make a great blanket…” The last of her sentence turns into mumbles as she starts to doze off.

.

Ben lets his head fall back, laughing. “Bev! No, come on, I can’t just leave you here.” He turns his body to her, grabs her arm and shakes it a little. “You want a blanket?”

He yawns and waits for Beverly to get up but she doesn’t, so he takes off his jacket and places it over her before laying down next to her, the grass tickling him through his shirt. “If you don’t get up I’ll have to stay here with you. Or I’m just gonna have to carry you home.”

.

Bev remains on the ground. She can feel herself drifting to sleep with no help from Ben’s talking. It’s the only thing keeping her awake, but only because she likes listening to his voice so much. She doesn’t need to open her eyes to hear that he lays down next to her. “Hmm, I hope you don’t mind getting grass stains on your shirt then.”

She does admire Ben’s offer to stay with her, even if they’re just words and he’s inevitably going to carry her anyways. “You already gave me your jacket, I’m comfy. Guess you’ll just have to carry me.”

.

Ben opens his mouth in surprise. “Really? I’m really gonna have to carry you?” He chuckles and closes his eyes, with a hand behind his head. He stays there for a while, but the cool weather eventually wins. “Okay, let’s go now,” he says, and sits up to kneel in her direction. “If you want me to do it, I will. Do you?”

He sees how she nods with her head and mumbles a _'yeah’_ , so he extends his arms to take her off the ground, but stops in the middle, not knowing exactly how to do it. After a moment of thought he holds her legs with one arm and uses the other to hold her torso, then lifts her up, careful not to drop the jacket.

“Alright, here we go,” he says and walks towards the building in silence, too embarrassed to look at her for long, but giving her a few quick glances to make sure she’s okay.

.

Beverly is asleep by the time Ben finally picks her up, and the only thing that gets her to wake up are the bright lights approaching as they get closer and closer to York Hall. She isn’t even sure how to react to him  _actually_ carrying her all the way to the building. It’s a nice gesture, and she is very much enjoying the princess-like feeling to it all. Bev can’t seem think of anything wrong with this moment, and her heart is doing the thing again, going all crazy for Ben Hanscom, and she doesn’t know how to deal with it. Is it better to suppress her feelings or to give in?

Maybe she could give in, for one night at least.

Her thought process is interrupted once they arrive at the entrance to the building. “Okay, you can let me down now.”

.

The sound of her voice lets Ben know she’s awake. It wasn’t a long walk to York Hall, but she seemed to be sleeping soundly for a moment there, in his arms. “Oh, hey,” he says in a raspy voice that’s already showing signs of tiredness. He lets her down at the door of the building, his jacket still on her.

“Alright, time to go sleep again.” They walk the stairs to their floor and Ben lets her lead the way to her room. When they get to room 213, he stands there by her side with sleepy eyes and a sweet smile. “We’ve arrived. Safe and sound.”

.

“Yeah, we did. I was almost sure we’d get mugged in the short trip from that frat house to here. Like if there was a wager, I would’ve bet about a million dollars on it. I could’ve been in terrible debt and the semester isn’t even over yet.” Bev lightly laughs, shrugging her shoulders, which reminds her that she needs to give him his jacket back. She almost doesn’t want to. It could serve as a souvenir of this incredible night. It was also a cute jacket, she could style it real nice, and this thought leads to her imagining a couple of outfit ideas.  _‘Except it’s not your jacket Beverly, you need to stop’._

“This was fun though, I wasn’t expecting tonight to turn out like this at all.”

.

Ben laughs, still impressed by her and her sense of humor. Beverly gives him his jacket and he folds it over his forearm. “It was fun for me too. A great turn of events.” He observes her for a minute, trying not to think about the fact that this magical night is about to end. Trying not to think about how tomorrow morning everything will go back to the way things have always been. “I’m glad we met.”

Her gray-green eyes, sparkling under the dim hallway lights, are looking up at him, and he notices her red hair, a little bit messy now. The butterflies in his stomach make a mess of him again. There’s something about her hair - and about Beverly Marsh in general - that makes him remember things he hasn’t experienced and brings him back to a time that hasn’t happened yet. Or has it?

.

“Me too.” It’s great to know they both enjoyed the night, because Beverly was convinced she inconvenienced him by making him take care of her. He’s good company, and doesn’t complain, plus he’s easy on the eyes. Everything is leading to that cliché romantic ending to the evening where she kisses him goodnight. So why not do just that? What is actually stopping her? She suddenly can’t remember.

Bev’s movements follow her thoughts, as her face is inching closer towards his. The following seconds feel like an eternity, with her heart pounding at a million beats per minute as their lips are mere millimeters away. Her eyes slowly close as her mind fills up with good thoughts, ones that only relate to Ben. Her face is burning, hoping that he’s feeling the same way she is. She is on the brink of letting herself fall for Ben, with his words and his kind voice and his soft eyes.

.

Everything happens too quickly for Ben’s brain to process on time. She supports herself on him as she stands on her toes, and in less than a second Beverly’s face is so close he can even see the smallest and lightest freckles on her skin, as well as her lips approaching his own. Paralyzed, he inadvertently holds his breath. His face is burning red. His throat gets dry, and he feels the electric touch of her hand over his chest send lightning through his veins.

Ben wonders if she notices the way his heart is about to jump out of his rib cage and into her palms, but he doesn’t care. The rest of the world around them seems to dissipate, like he’s falling into a profound dream with his eyes wide open.

.

Just as their lips are barely grazing each other, a voice appears in Beverly’s head saying, _'Stop running around with those boys, Bevvie.’_  The familiar voice is clear, as if the dead man is right there with her, watching her intently. She can visualize the scorning and immediate consequences of her actions in her head, clear as day.

Bev immediately takes this as a sign that she isn’t making the best decision right now and backs away, just as her father would have wanted.

Her eyes flicker open, out of the romantic trance she was in. “Goodnight, Ben Handsome.” 

.

Ben opens his mouth and closes it, blinking in silence. After a moment, he swallows, finally able to speak. “Goodnight, Beverly Marsh,” he mutters under his breath,

.

It hurts Beverly to close the door on him, but she offers a nervous smile and waves at him before entering her dorm.

.

After watching her disappear into her room, Ben stays there, eyes on the door, with only the sound of his own breathing as company. After a few seconds he suddenly exhales deeply, and starts breathing, almost desperate for air, until his body calms down. He runs his hand through his hair and rubs the side of his neck. It lingers there for a second before he lets it fall to his side. The light above him starts flickering just a little, but his mind is not in the right place to start wondering about the building’s maintenance. Right now, he’s only thinking about the wonderful things the night brought them, everything that led up to that moment, and a joyful smile slowly forms on his lips as he walks to his dorm.

For a single moment, Ben Hanscom is completely certain that this was bound to happen, like they knew each other from long ago and the universe is just bringing them back together again. He’s not sure what’s going to happen tomorrow, but tonight his heart is happy, and that’s enough for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Ben - [ao3: hanscomarsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanscomarsh); [tumblr: hanscomarsh](https://hanscomarsh.tumblr.com)  
> Beverly - [ao3: bcnvcrly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcnvcrly); [tumblr: bcnvcrly](https://bcnvcrly.tumblr.com)  
> 


	19. Richie Tozier Tells a Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the frat party, Richie and Eddie go back to Eddie’s room, some shenanigans start to ensue, but things quickly take a turn back to fluff. And at last, the night of 09/01 comes to an end for every Loser, when Richie tells Eddie a story he doesn't realize is [a memory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15779898/chapters/36765849).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Saturday, 09/01, late night; UMaine Campus & York Hall room 204**

Eddie leaves the frat house with Richie, hands clasped together. They are each holding a freshly opened beer in their free hand, not paying any mind to the possibility of being caught by campus security. Eddie isn’t worried about that right now. He’s not worried about anything, really, which is an extreme rarity for him.

Something about Richie makes him feel less inhibited, and he knows it’s  _Richie_  and not the alcohol, because in any other situation he would still feel a dull, pulsing sense of panic building in his gut, no matter how drunk he was. In any other situation he would be  _afraid_ , desperate for affection but terrified of putting himself in someone else’s hands. In any other situation, he would hear his mother’s voice, calling him  _dirty_  and sick… but this is different.  
  
_Richie_  is different.

There is more to it than that, but Eddie can’t figure out what, and it doesn’t matter right now, anyway, because Richie’s hand is in his and it feels more natural than anything in the world. He tightens his grip and shifts closer, heart fluttering when their clasped hands brush against his thigh. It’s surely past midnight now, and the further away they walk from the frat house, the quieter the campus becomes, until Eddie breaks the silence by laughing suddenly.

“You know, I’ve been telling myself all week not to let you make a move on me, yet here we are, and _I_  was the one who made the move.”

.

“I thought I died and rose again from that kiss.” Richie laughs, leans over, and kisses Eddie’s cheek sloppily. He whispers in his ear, “Why didn’t you want me to make a move?”

.

Eddie flushes and briefly lets go of Richie’s hand to wipe off his cheek, laughing again. “It’s not that I didn’t  _want_ you to. I just… didn’t want to let it happen.” He grabs onto Richie’s hand again, then takes a sip of his beer. “I don’t have the best track record.”

.

“That’s okay. I’ll erase the bad. Let’s rewrite your track record with some good experiences,” Richie says, swinging their entwined hands.

.

“Is that what you do?” Eddie asks, looking at him and raising his eyebrow. “Swoop in and rescue people from their bad choices?”

.

“More like, we make bad choices together but they cancel each other out because two negatives equal a positive.” Richie tries to keep a straight face but starts to laugh. “Okay, yeah, now I hear myself. You’re right, sometimes I do say bad lines.”

.

“Hmm…” Eddie looks down at their hands, then at his feet - he focuses on walking in a straight line, testing his own inebriation. “Do you consider being with you a bad choice? Because that’s the kind of bad choice I was talking about - bad choices in  _people_.”

.

Richie glances at him from the corner of his eyes. “I don’t really think I can make that judgement. You’re going to have to decide.”

.

“Oh, that’s funny - I’m the person who makes bad choices because I believe everyone is inherently good, and you’re asking  _me_  to decide?” Eddie looks up now, smirking. “Tell me anyway, I’m making this so easy for you. You should know by now that I’ll believe anything you say.” His brows knit together for only a moment, unsure of where that comment came from. He can’t remember if he’s actually given Richie a reason to think that, but it feels right anyway, like any piece of common knowledge.

.

Richie stops abruptly. Eddie is yanked backward to face him, beer spilling a little from the sudden stop. “Hey, I want you to feel safe around me and if there is  _ever_  a moment you don’t, then I will leave you alone.“ He keeps his eyes on Eddie’s face, wondering if he is feeling vulnerable. “It sounds like you deserve a bit of kindness from this shitty world, for once. And maybe I’m not the best person to give you that, but I would like to fucking try.”

.

Eddie’s cheeks redden more, this time from embarrassment. “I was just kidding around, I didn’t mean to imply you’re bad - you’re fine! You’re  _nice_ , you - you made me drink water, and you didn’t leave when I couldn’t breathe - I…” He trails off with his rambling, feeling immensely guilty for making Richie think he’d done anything wrong, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“I don’t want you to leave me alone. I was making a joke about being gullible - I’m sorry.” He smiles sheepishly. “I’m not very funny, am I?”

.

“Oh, you are plenty funny.” Richie smiles at him and starts walking again, pulling Eddie along. “So are we going back to your place?”

.

Eddie stumbles a little trying to keep up with Richie, feeling a bit of emotional whiplash at the abrupt end to that conversation. _‘Does he still feel bad? Is he angry?’_ he asks himself. _‘Maybe not, if he wants to come over… But what is he expecting once we get there?’_

“Yes - I mean, yeah, sure.” Once he gets his steps to fall in line with Richie’s, Eddie takes a sip of his beer and sees that York Hall is very close. “So, you’re inviting yourself over… interesting. Is it because  _your_  room is a mess?”

.

Richie raises his eyebrows in a challenge. “Nothing gets past you, huh? I’m a messy boy. Better you know now.”

.

Eddie smiles, charmed by the implication that they’d be in each other’s lives for long enough that messiness will eventually be something to consider. As such, he can’t help but reply, “That’s okay, I can be clean enough for the both of us.” Once the words are out, he laughs nervously and takes another drink.

.

“My Stars! Why Edward Christopher Kaspbrak!” Richie’s voice turns high pitched and Southern, and he pulls a middle name out of nowhere. “Are you flirting with me?” 

.

Eddie stops just outside their dorm building and turns to Richie, looking confused. “How do you know my middle name?”

.

Richie gives an equally confused expression. “That’s actually your middle name? I just said the first one that came to mind! It felt right… fucking creepy… maybe I’m psychic!”

.

“Yeah… maybe. I guess it’s a pretty common name.” Now kind of weirded out, Eddie quickens his pace to the building’s entrance and uses his ID card to open the door. He’s suddenly wondering if Richie’s a stalker and all night he’s been setting himself up to be murdered.  _‘No - it was just a lucky guess; that’s way more probable… right?’_ He glances around warily. “Um, we should probably be quiet on the way up so we don’t get caught with beer by the RA.”

.

“Good luck trying to shut me up.” Richie grins cheekily.

.

Eddie bites his lip and turns away to enter the building, annoyed with himself for being so affected by Richie’s smile, not just for tonight, but since the very beginning. He glances back as he walks ahead of Richie down the hall, wanting to wipe the grin off his face. “I dunno, I think I already succeeded in doing _that_ back at the party.”

.

Richie’s feeling very floaty and most definitely intoxicated as he comes up behind Eddie and drapes his arms over his shoulders, deterring their walking pattern a bit. “You should feel free to shut me up any time,” he whispers in his ear huskily.

.

Eddie ducks out from under Richie’s arms and laughs, turning on his heel and walking backward toward the stairs. He shakes his head, but his smile remains encouraging. “Getting ahead of yourself again.”

.

“I can take it slow!” Richie starts walking as dramatically slow as possible, looking at Eddie with a grin. “Slow as a turtle.”

.

“Okay, see you in an hour then, I guess. Hopefully you remember my room number,” Eddie says, then turns around and sprints up the stairs.

.

Richie laughs and takes the stairs two at a time, trying to use his long legs as an advantage, but Eddie turns around the corner of the stairwell quickly, very close to outrunning him entirely. He’s never been a good runner himself; smoking all the time and barely exercising will do that to a guy.

.

Eddie was  _going_  to wait for Richie at the top of the stairs, but when he sees that he’s gaining on him he decides to keep going. So he gets to the landing and then books it down the hall - which is thankfully empty at the moment. Some of his beer sloshes out of the can, but he makes sure to hold it steadily enough so that it’s not too much. Eddie has always been quick, and even drunk he easily stays ahead of Richie without tripping over himself, laughing as he looks back to make sure Richie is still keeping up with him.

.

Richie throws his beer in the stairwell trash can, which frees up his arms to accelerate his momentum. There is a freedom in running after Eddie that is also strangely familiar. He thinks that he could probably chase after Eddie his whole life and never tire. Who could get exhausted from being around someone like him? Someone so… what? He’s not sure. The thoughts bring confusion with them, so he pushes them down and away.

.

Laughing breathlessly, Eddie skids to a halt in front of his door and starts trying to get his key in the lock as Richie catches up. God he really,  _really_  hopes his roommate isn’t there.

.

Richie sees Eddie right in front of Room 204 and sprints the remaining distance. Eddie manages to open the door just as Richie wraps his arms around his waist from behind. They both laugh with a silly childish nature, and Richie’s heart is racing for more than one reason.

“Do I win anything by catching you?” he asks breathlessly.

.

Eddie stumbles into the room along with Richie, giggling and shutting the door loudly behind them. He puts his beer down on the nearest surface before turning around in Richie’s arms, smiling at him sweetly. “Does it even count as catching if I stopped first?”

.

Richie runs his hands up and down Eddie’s sides soothingly as he stares at him, trying to control his own longing, then grins. “I leave that decision up to you.”

.

“Hmmm…” Eddie moves his hands over Richie’s shoulders, then up into his hair, as he pretends to think this decision over. “I suppose I _could_  let you kiss me again. But only because I feel like being nice, not because you won, because clearly I won if the door was the finish line.”

.

“Then maybe  _you’re_  the one winning something,” Richie says as he leans forward and brushes his lips lightly against Eddie’s, which are soft and inviting. “Or is it both of us?”

.

Eddie shudders, his eyes fluttering closed at the ghost of a kiss. “Both, I think,” he answers quietly.

.

There they stand, in the middle of the dorm room, lips a centimeter apart. Richie holds himself back a second longer because there is so much he wants to say, but he has no idea how to formulate the right words. He decides to close the distance between their mouths gradually. This time the kiss isn’t rushed, shocking, or confusing. It’s soft and sweet, probably the gentlest Richie has ever been. Something about it is completely perfect.

He sweeps his tongue across Eddie’s lower lip, silently asking him for permission to take it further.

.

Eddie curls his fingers in Richie’s hair, taking a trembling breath as he parts his lips. He lifts onto the balls of his feet to deepen the kiss, but his head is swimming and he’s still drunk, so he quickly loses balance and stumbles backward, pulling Richie with him until his back hits the door. “Shit, sorry,” he mumbles, laughing against Richie’s mouth.

.

Richie laughs in surprise, his hands landing on the door to steady them. “Getting ahead of yourself,” he says teasingly, echoing Eddie’s earlier words and making him laugh harder. Then he moves in again, delving his tongue into Eddie’s mouth and sighing as the kiss deepens. The kiss gets more intense as he explores Eddie with a newness that is also strangely familiar.

He gets a little too enthusiastic by adding more pressure, and Eddie’s cheek knocks his glasses sideways. “Oh fuck, sorry!” Richie grins, pulling his face away.

.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says breathlessly, watching Richie adjust his glasses. Both the action and the grin on Richie’s face make his heart hurt, and the moment fills him with that same sense of deja vu he’s had so frequently since arriving on this campus. He moves forward, but instead of going in for another kiss, he just buries his face in the crook of Richie’s neck, holding onto him tightly with one hand still threaded through his hair.  
  
He pulls Richie into him and just breathes him in for a moment, the deja vu bringing with it a sinking feeling that all of this would be gone in the morning. “I like you,” he says, voice muffled, but his tone surprises him with its sadness, and how much weight it carries - as though what he really meant to say was _‘don’t leave me’._

.

There is a crumbling inside of Richie that threatens to crush his heart. He never hears genuine words of endearment, and Eddie just presented him with some of the most powerful ones. For the second time this night, he feels that burn of unshed tears.   
  
“I like you more,” he says with certainty, like he’s said it a million times before. He keeps hugging Eddie closer, never wanting to let him go, though he might have to. “Do you want to get some sleep? I can go if you do.“

.

"No! I’m awake.” Eddie pulls back to look up at Richie, blinking a few times as if to prove how alert he is. “Who knows when my roommate will be back! You can stay for a little while. Here-” He moves out from between Richie and the door, then grabs his hand and leads him over to his bed, which is neatly made with a set of striped turquoise bedding - something his mother would surely label as ‘fruity’, along with nearly everything else he owns. He sits down, still looking at Richie expectantly.

.

Richie plops down next to Eddie. They sit with their hands entwined, though Richie still wonders if it would be best to leave. He’s so worried about saying or doing the wrong thing, that he cannot help when his nervous ticks begin happening: his leg bounces, he chews his lip, and his free hand pulls at a piece of string from his ripped jeans.

.

Upon seeing Richie erupt in nervous movement, Eddie does the first thing that comes to his mind: he stands back up, turns, moves Richie’s hand out of the way, and plants himself soundly in his lap to put an end to the leg bouncing. It occurs to him that this might be too much too soon, but at the same time, rarely has something felt so simple and natural to him than sitting like this, with one knee on either side of Richie, face to face, their eyes nearly level in this position. He lets go of Richie’s hand to cup his face again, like he had back at the party, and grins mischievously. “Why’re you wasting your energy fidgeting when you could be channeling it into something else?”

.

Eddie’s boldness takes Richie by surprise - he’s a constant mystery it would seem - but it gives him some confidence. He places his hands low on Eddie’s back, and eyes flickering to his lips. “Where would you like my energy to be channeled? Here?” He kisses Eddie’s mouth.

“What about here?” He makes a trail down the right side of Eddie’s neck until he gets to the base, asking for the third time, “Here?” Then he begins to slowly bite and suck at the area.

.

Eddie shudders as Richie quickly hones in on that sensitive spot, and he tilts his head to give him better access. “There - there’s good,” he sighs as he drapes his arms around Richie’s shoulders, one hand going right back to combing through his hair, which he thinks he just might want to touch forever.

He’s both thrilled and frightened by Richie’s assertiveness, just as he has been the entire (albeit short) time Richie has pursued him, so it’s no surprise now that his alcohol-fueled adrenaline is making him want more. Breath hitching, he shifts his hips forward and tightens his hold on Richie in an attempt to get closer.

.

Richie can’t help the moan that escapes his lips at Eddie’s response and the feel of his fingers in his hair. He keeps sucking and biting at that one spot with Eddie’s encouragement, until he lets go with a pop and blows on the mark, before bringing his mouth back over Eddie’s.

.

Eddie eagerly responds to him as the heat between them builds, and the kiss quickly becomes needy and wet once he parts his lips. Their tongues brush together and he sighs into Richie’s mouth, his whole body tingling from all the alcohol he’s consumed. He feels drunker now, in the quiet of his room, with Richie’s hands on him, but it feels more like a natural high than anything. He laughs into the kiss - something he fears will soon become a habit - and pulls back coyly, just enough to tease Richie into chasing him.

.

“Your laugh is so cute.” Richie’s lips automatically follow Eddie’s to kiss him more, but another idea hits him. His hands drift down to Eddie’s behind, making sure he won’t fall as Richie abruptly leans sideways on the bed, easily taking Eddie with him and laughing at the action.

.

Eddie gasps when Richie’s hands move, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it because soon he’s pulled down to the mattress and Richie’s laugh is filling the room. His heart flutters and he can’t help but laugh along with him, though the intimacy of their position isn’t lost on him, nor is the fact that Richie is still between his legs. Cheeks flushing, he adjusts his arm so that he can continue playing with Richie’s hair. His eyes briefly meet Richie’s, then he shifts closer and kisses him softly.

.

Richie was already feeling hot from everything else, but his face is on _fire_ with how softly Eddie is kissing him. It’s gentle.  _Too_  gentle. Too  _confusing_. There’s a sense of not deserving this tenderness. Richie’s used to messy, loud, and the certainty that it will end and that would be okay. Except, if this ended too soon it would feel wrong, so he runs his hand down Eddie’s thigh and hooks it more firmly around his waist.

.

Their slow, deliberate kisses draw a hum of approval out of Eddie. He brings his free hand up to rest against Richie’s neck, swiping his thumb over his jaw and taking comfort in the warmth of his skin. He shifts his leg, if only to feel the slight movement of Richie’s hand on his thigh, a reminder that they are teetering on the precipice of real intimacy. Instead of shying away from it, he feels emboldened to deepen their kiss, slide his own hand down over Richie’s back, and pull him closer.

It’s not enough, though - the room is spinning, he can feel it even with his eyes closed. So he rolls onto his back and pulls Richie with him, hoping that his weight will anchor him.

.

The surprise position change makes Richie gasp. He tries not to crush Eddie as he adjusts in the cradle of his legs, but he seems to  _want_  to close any distance, so Richie lets his fingers tease the hem of Eddie’s shirt. Then he slides a hand up his soft stomach, feeling how feverish his skin is. Probably as hot as his own must be.

.

Eddie’s muscles jump under Richie’s touch, and he immediately arches up into him. He lets out a soft moan, heart racing - but then he opens his eyes. It takes a moment for the ceiling to come into focus, but then the reality of the situation comes crashing down on him.  
  
He’s drunk - they  _both_ are - and Eddie has made this mistake before. He’s gotten ahead of himself, let people take him home, thinking he wanted more… but it always ended the same way. He would try to push through in a desperate, intoxicated attempt to feel loved, only to end up embarrassing himself when he couldn’t give them what they wanted. The panic would always set in, then he’d have a full on asthma attack with a man on top of him, or worse - with a dick in front of his face - and that would be the end of it. They either left or kicked him out, and he never blamed them. After all, no one wants to deal with someone who is too much work.

He can’t let that happen here, though. He  _likes_  Richie, he can’t risk upsetting him. While it’s true that his typical unease hasn’t set in yet, it’s only a matter of time until it becomes too much. He feels strangely comfortable with Richie, but that in itself frightens him. So, he puts his hands on Richie’s shoulders, gently pushing him back. “Wait…”  
  
He meets Richie’s eyes, his stomach churning with nerves. “I can’t - I’m sorry,” he says, frantically searching Richie’s face and waiting for the moment when his expression turns to disappointment - then, inevitably, to annoyance. “I like you, but we’re drunk… my roommate - I’m sorry.”

.

“That’s okay. Nothing to be sorry about,” Richie says immediately as he removes his hand from under Eddie’s shirt. He stares into Eddie’s anxious eyes, then gives him a reassuring smile while he carefully moves away, rolling to his side on the bed.  
  
There is no part of him that wishes to leave, but he doesn’t want Eddie to feel bad about needing to stop. If he is being honest, he  _wants_  this to be taken slow, to savor every possible second. Most of all, he isn’t done being around Eddie’s intoxicating and all-consuming presence.  
  
“Let’s just talk.” He pushes his hair to the side then lays his head on half of Eddie’s pillow.

.

Eddie rolls to face Richie, a look of confusion on his face. “Really? You aren’t mad?”

.

“I never get mad. What’s the point?” Richie shrugs a little. “And I certainly wouldn’t get mad at you for wanting to stop. It’s not like you punched me in the face.”

.

Eddie’s a little taken aback by this example, but he relaxes just the same. “ _That’s_  what it takes to make you angry? There must be more to it than that.” He shifts closer, curling into Richie a bit and laying his head on the pillow as well. There isn’t exactly a lot of room on a dormitory twin bed, but he’d want to be this close even if there was.

“I’ve been punched in the face loads of times,” he adds, laughing. “But usually I was already pissed before that.”

.

Richie brings a hand up to run along Eddie’s flushed cheek, then tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. “Who could hit your handsome mug?”   
  
He takes his hand back. “I’ve been punched a lot too. I was ugly as sin as a kid, very punchable. People still throw punches at me. Jackasses don’t like it when you tell them all the reasons they’re never going to succeed in life.”

.

“Well that’s kinda mean. Not that you deserve to get  _punched_ for it, but haven’t you ever heard of a compliment sandwich?” Eddie smiles, tucking one hand under his pillow and taking Richie’s hand with the other. “You have to say something nice first,  _then_  say what’s wrong, then give constructive advice on how to do better, then end with something else nice. Like… you’re a really charming guy, so maybe if you used that charm  _while_  telling people why they suck, you wouldn’t get punched so often… then they’d see how funny and smart you are instead. See?” His grin widens. “I just did it.”

.

Richie keeps his eyes on their entwined hands. “It’s not my fault though. Usually, I’m trying to tell a friend a joke about some guy, but he’d overhear and ask me to repeat myself. Then I would make a crack about his inability to hear, like ‘dig the wax out of your ears’. I think that’s pretty constructive!” His eyes land on Eddie’s. “So… you think I’m funny and smart?”

.

Eddie laughs at the joke, nodding that it is indeed constructive. “Of course I do. You make me  _laugh_ , don’t you?” He shifts closer to Richie. “I guess I don’t really know you that well, but still, something tells me you’re probably the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

.

“I think teachers growing up would disagree and say I was more of a menace than smart. But I appreciate the vote of confidence.” Richie’s eyes feel a little droopy now, but he blinks a couple times to wake himself up. “So tell me something about _your_ childhood.”

.

Eddie’s smile falters. “There’s not much to say. It was normal, I don’t remember much. I got punched a few times, like I mentioned. Kid stuff.” He shrugs, then puts the smile back on. “Hey, can I try on your glasses? Wanna see how blind you are.”

.

Richie notes Eddie’s resistance to talk about his past and decides to let it go for now. “I’m almost legally blind, I think.” He unclasps their hands and takes his glasses off. The moment the lenses leave his face everything is blurry, but he holds them out for Eddie to take.

.

Grinning, Eddie eagerly takes the glasses and puts them on, but he gets an almost instant headache from how completely out of focus everything suddenly is - even Richie’s face, which is mere inches away. “Holy shit!” He looks around a little, but the glasses make him feel even more drunk, and the room is spinning more than ever. “This is truly awful.”

He looks back at Richie. “I suppose it’s probably pointless to ask how I look?”

.

Richie smirks. “You look like a beautiful, beautiful blob.”

.

“So I’ve been told,” Eddie says, thinking back to the first day they met. He takes the lenses off and carefully puts them back on Richie’s face, where they’re meant to be. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and blinks a few times, his headache quickly fading.

.

Richie slings his arm around Eddie’s waist, scooting a little closer. “Your eyes okay?”

.

“Hm?” Eddie blinks twice more, focusing on holding Richie’s gaze. “Of course -  _I’m_  not the one who’s legally blind here.” He mirrors Richie’s actions by winding his arm around his chest, swiping his palm along his back until he finds the most comfortable position. Smiling mischievously, he hooks his leg over Richie’s thigh again, as though they’re playing a game of chicken to see how close their bodies can be without taking things too far. “Richie, what d’you want to be when you grow up?”

.

“Well, I kind of told you that I want to star on SNL, or be famous enough that they ask me to host. It would be amazing to have a talk show, too. People paying me to talk? Fuck yes.” Richie shifts a little and lets one leg slip between Eddie’s, enjoying the closeness he’s receiving.

.

Eddie buries his face into his pillow with an apologetic groan. “Fuck, sorry, I forgot,” he says, voice muffled.

.

Richie laughs. “That’s okay. I was just an annoying stranger to you that day.”

.

Feeling sheepish, Eddie stops hiding his face and moves his hand back around to Richie’s front, where he starts toying with his shirt collar. He drops his gaze to watch his own movements, rather than meet Richie’s eyes. “I’m sorry about that. I thought you weren’t like this. You know…  _nice_. I was so ready to write you off. I didn’t even want to go to dinner that night, but something told me I should.” He looks up again. “I’m glad I did.”

.

Richie holds his gaze for a bit, loving the light touch on his collar. He‘s _trying_  to stay still, but Eddie makes it so hard when he looks at him like _that_. He begins tracing his fingers in random designs on Eddie’s back. “Something told me to become friends with you. And once I want to be friends with someone, I make it happen.”

.

Eddie wants so badly to ask  _‘Is that what this is? Just friends?’_ but he holds back. Now isn’t the time to ask for clarification, or to burst the bubble they’ve been in all night, especially when he has no idea what he wants the answer to be. So he just smiles. “I guess you must be making a lot of friends lately, then.”

.

“No one like you though,” Richie brings his face a little closer, “so who the fuck else matters?”

.

Now Eddie wants to ask even more. _‘What does that mean? What does that mean, ‘no one like you’??’_  They hardly know each other. But whose fault is that? Eddie’s been blocking him at every turn. Even now, part of him is certain that the connection he feels is imagined, that he could be anybody and he’s playing right into Richie’s hands. For some reason, he just can’t accept the possibility that this could be something  _real_.   
  
He bites his lip, thinking of where to go from here. As uncertain as he is, he doesn’t move away, because he doesn’t want to lose this. He can feel himself bursting the bubble all on his own, sabotaging this before it begins, and he needs a distraction in order to stop.

“Can you tell me a story?” It sounds stupid the moment it’s out of his mouth, and his face immediately feels hot. “I mean… because you need to practice, right? If you’re going to have a talk show.”

.

“A story? Okay. Um… ONCE UPON A TIME, there were these two kids, Ralph and… um… er…” Richie thinks hard about a name, then stares right at Eddie. “Uhhh… Freddie! His name was Freddie.”

.

Eddie relaxes once Richie starts talking, easing quickly out of his worried state, and chuckles softly at the name choice. “Wow, so  _creative._ ”

.

“I’m the  _most_  creative, thank you. But back to my story: Ralph and Freddie were being chased by some bullies, who were huge - like  _massive_  compared to them. The reason they were being chased was because _Ralph_ insulted the bullies, something he did far too often, so now the two of them were running all through town trying to get away. Luckily Ralph’s friend, Freddie, really knew his way around, so Ralph told him to put those skills to work. They turned quickly down an alley, hearing the shouts of the bullies somewhere behind them. But then Ralph, in all his clumsy glory, tripped a little, losing his footing, and since Freddie was a much faster runner, he quickly fell behind.  _Dun dun DUNNNN_ ,” Richie says with a loud sing-song voice, then settles back into the story.   
  
“Although Freddie could’ve kept going once he realized Ralph was gone, he ran back to find his friend. As he passed something big - let’s say it was a… dumpster, I guess - a hand reached out and grabbed him. Freddie yelped, thinking that  _this was it, the bully had caught him._  He was a _goner_.” Richie grabs Eddie’s sides for dramatic effect, pretending to scare him.

.

Eddie squirms under Richie’s touch, laughing more as he grabs onto his hand - but instead of swatting it away, he holds it there, so that Richie’s palm stays firmly against his waist. Entertained by the story so far, he tries to hold back a smirk and bats his eyelashes with exaggerated concern. “ _Oh no!_  I sure hope he’s alright…!”

.

Richie squeezes Eddie’s side lightly and grins. “… But then he saw the goofy face of his friend, and told him off for scaring him. Freddie also pointed out that hiding behind a dumpster was completely unsanitary. And-”

.

“Well  _yeah_ , of course,” Eddie interrupts. “It  _would_  be - there were probably rats in there… mold… maybe even toxic waste, you never know.” He laughs a little, though now he has a feeling he’s heard the same story somewhere before - like Richie just got it from a movie or something.

.

“Yeah yeah, it was gross. ANYWAYS, as he continued his tirade - about rats and mold, apparently - loud footsteps could be heard coming down the alley.” Richie lowers his voice, as much as he is capable. “Ralph told him to shush and they both stayed as still as possible, waiting to be caught. A million terrified thoughts raced through Ralph’s head, because he  _hated_  getting beat up. It always ended in pain for a week, and…”

Richie starts to wonder if this story actually may have happened to  _him_. There were endless amounts of times bullies captured and wailed on him. It is very likely he pulled this from one of those incidents. “And uh…disappointment from his parents even longer, so he… he uh, grabbed Freddie’s hand for comfort.” Richie takes ahold of Eddie’s hand and entwines their fingers.

.

Eddie looks down at their hands and smiles fondly. He’s definitely feeling drowsiness start to set in, the buzzing in his head slowing to a dull throb. He blinks sleepily up at Richie and snuggles in closer, holding his hand close to his chest.

.

“Ralph decided that if they were going to die, he would fucking die holding his best friend’s hand. Then uh, suddenly, there was a  _noise_  on the other side of the dumpster - the bullies were searching inside. Ralph prayed to every deity he could think of - which was only about three - that they’d be too stupid to think about checking behind.”  Richie brings his free hand up to brush through Eddie’s bangs softy.  
  
“There was rustling, then a loud slam that made both kids jump, and Ralph was  _sure_  his prayers went unheard… but it was just one of the bullies kicking the dumpster and the lid slamming shut. And that was it, the bullies just…  _walked away._ ”

.

At this point, Eddie is only half awake, but he hums in response to let Richie know he’s still listening. He’s unable to keep his eyes open, and listening to Richie’s voice is so comforting. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks again that the story sounds familiar, but he’s too exhausted from the night’s events to focus on it.

.

Richie watches as Eddie closes his eyes. He considers stopping the story to let him sleep, but he wants to finish. It deserves to have a nice ending, and Eddie looks so peaceful and relaxed… he wants to stay in this moment a little longer.   
  
“So… they remained silent until the bullies were definitely gone, then Ralph said he was happy they weren’t dead,” he continues, voice low. “Freddie let go of his hand and stood up, saying that they were never going to die… But Ralph knew better, he knew Freddie  _liked_ the adrenaline of danger, for some strange reason, just as much as Ralph hated it.”

.

Eddie’s lips twitch at the corners, the best attempt at a smile he can muster in this state, though he can definitely relate to enjoying a good adrenaline rush. He curls up against Richie a little more, breath evening out as he drifts off.

.

“But as Freddie started walking away, Ralph followed him, thinking about how he wouldn’t mind escaping death with his best friend any day… The End,” Richie finishes with a big smile on his face.

Eddie’s breath blows lightly against his neck, giving him goosebumps. He shifts away to take him in properly. The pink lips he got to kiss tonight are parted slightly as he breathes deeply. Those long dark eyelashes fan the tops of his cheekbones, usually flushed but not right now. Richie can count how many freckles are on his cheeks… except, he somehow already knows there are twenty-seven. He takes a second to count, just to be sure he’s right, which of course he is. This confuses him immensely, but he pushes away the concerns.  
  
He wants to stay but knows Eddie needs to get some sleep. Slowly he extracts his hand from the tight grip of Eddie’s smaller one. He stays still, then gradually gets off the bed, doing a stop and wait game as he watches to make sure he doesn’t disturb him. When he is finally off the bed, he stares at Eddie’s sweet sleeping form again - the usually neat hair messy, defensive walls completely down as he dreams. Eddie is still in his street clothes, and above the covers. Richie spots a folded up blanket nearby and places that carefully over him.  
  
As Richie tucks him in, he allows himself to think about the night, and how perfect it had been. One week of knowing Eddie and he has never felt like this about anyone. Felt like  _what_  though? He cannot explain it. He walks toward the door, but stops himself when his hand is on the doorknob. He glances back one more time.

Perhaps Richie can explain it, and chooses not to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> 


	20. Beverly Marsh Has a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Ben drops Beverly off at her dorm, she falls asleep, and her dreams turn into nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings and warnings may change; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about this project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**Saturday, 09/01, middle of the night; York Hall, room 213**

The air from the stuffy room where Patty sleeps collides with the fresh air Bev brings with her from the outside. Her immediate reaction is to open the window, thinking the cool breeze will be enough to remedy this humidity. ‘ _How can Patty stand to be in this room?’_ She sits on her bed, staring down at the time on her phone. With the magic of technology, the cell unlocks itself with a mere fingerprint, and the first thing that appears is her contact list, revealing once again a ‘Ben Handsome’. This leaves a smile on her face, going over the pleasant details of tonight quickly in her head.

_‘Why does the night have to end?’_

Beverly contemplates this as she gets ready for bed and lazily removes her makeup with a single wipe. She considers sending some sort of message, a quick goodnight or an assuring text that confirms he has her phone number. It’s late, however, and her mind isn’t properly functioning at this hour. As Bev slips into bed, she suddenly finds herself not even tired, even after all that talk of sleeping earlier, outside. But she knows she needs to rest.

After countless minutes of rustling around, trying to find the right position to sleep in, her eyes start to feel heavy, and soon enough her dream begins...

* * *

An easel stands in the heart of the tiny living room.

The table that used to be in the corner next to the sofa now sits by a blank canvas that looks to have appeared in the blink of an eye. Paint supplies are on the tabletop surface, with brushes of different sizes in the biggest coffee mug Daddy owned. Colors galore: every hue imaginable that could fit on that small stand was there. ‘ _This must’ve cost a fortune_ ,’ she thinks.

The radio is playing something by Bon Jovi. Bev recalls seeing pictures of him and her mother at one of their concerts. She’s not sure where those pictures have gone.

“Took the day off, Bevvie.” The sudden voice from behind startles her and prompts a slight jump. She turns around, keeping her eyes anywhere else but his face. “Hoped we could paint today, we haven’t done that in a while now, have we?”

She can hear the smile on him, and the faith in his expression.

Her clothes feel baggy, as they did when she was younger, when her father demanded her to only grab clothes she could ‘grow into’ when they went shopping at the Salvation Army. Her eyes catch a blurry reflection in a picture frame. She sees a younger version of herself.

“But I have school today.” Suddenly this dream is set sometime in the school year, in the middle of the week.

“I stayed home for _you_ , Bevvie.” His voice is harsh and Bev shuts her eyes, preparing for any impact. “You can go if you prefer to, but I figured painting would be better than sitting at that desk the entire day.”

She’s hesitant to move forward, but she knows that's a mistake. Any sense of uncertainty and her father might…

In the midst of over-assuming her father’s future actions, she suddenly finds herself sitting in front of the easel with a clean paintbrush in her hand. Daddy’s now near where the TV used to be. ‘ _Looks like he got rid of it_.’ She doesn’t think about that for too long, though, because she notices how well he cleans himself up. His clothes are freshly pressed, but Bev doesn’t even recall ever ironing those clothes. His face is spotless, not one speck of dirt or grime. A smile forms across his face, and to her surprise, she returns the favor.

Beverly can’t think of the last time, if there has ever been any such occasion, that she’s known _calm_ in this cramped apartment.

She glances back at the paints. ‘ _Where should I even start?’_ Three shades catch her eye: blue, green, and brown - great tones to match the Kenduskeag Stream. She dips the small, synthetic paintbrush into a mossy brown, bracing to bring the picture she has in mind into detailed artwork. When she presses the pigment onto the canvas, there is shock on her face when the hue that stains the white turns out to be a color most artists would call **Blood Red.**

A forceful blink occurs, and to her surprise the paint is brown once again, just as she intended.

A sigh of relief leaves her body, and Bev continues to work on that color as a base. She’s still amazed by how well the color replicates the dirty river water. She’s keen on getting crisp lines, even if this was simply the foundation, so she moves closer in her seat. As she does, her right foot slides a bit on the wood floor, indicating a sort of wet substance on the ground. She looks down and sees the same **Blood Red** as before.

The red paint is now a puddle around her.

All the paint on the table had spilled out, all the same, terrifying color. Beverly is too distraught to distinguish if the paint is still _paint_ , or if her old fear of blood is resurfacing. She jumps to her feet, knocking the stool over.

“Girl, what’s the matter with you?” Daddy’s on his feet as well, and back into his all-around gray janitor’s outfit. There are smears of color all around his face and hands. There’s a heavy feeling in her chest and the tears seem to be pouring out on their own.

This has happened before, except... ‘ _No - What? When?’_

Bev can’t even concentrate or think straight, all she can focus on is trying to get a word out, but there seems to be something blocking her from letting out any noise. Her heart is racing, but not in the exciting way she felt when she was with Ben - no - this was a scary racing. Any faster and she’s certain she’ll have a heart attack.

“Paint,” is all her voice can make out. She tries gesturing to the spilled red ruining all the furniture, but Daddy’s getting impatient, he needs an answer.

_“Speak up!”_

Beverly can’t talk. No matter how much she tries, she opens her mouth and nothing but heavy breathing goes in and out. She feels Daddy’s presence move towards her, and her body tenses up as he grips her shoulders.

“Don’t... you... see... it?” she lets out in a hoarse whisper, sobbing in between words. His nails have the potential to dig into her skin, but he holds back.

“I worry, Bevvie, I worry _a lot_.”

That phrase rings in her ears like nails on a chalkboard.

_‘How can he not see it?’_

**“NO!!”**

She successfully leaves his grasp, which surprises both her and her father, but is more satisfying for Beverly than Alvin. Running to and out of the apartment door feels too easy; panic seizes the moment, leaving her running for her life, because she doesn’t want to know what will happen if Daddy catches up.

Bev simultaneously doesn’t know and also _knows exactly_ where she’s headed. Her feet take her past Bassey Park, making a turn at the Standpipe, leading her towards the Barrens. She’s not sure how she’s not running out of breath yet, however Beverly knows better than to stop running. Her memories kick in, bringing her to an underground clubhouse. As she enters through the trapdoor, she is expecting... _someone?_ She’s not sure _why_ she expected someone to be here already. The sound of twigs breaking alerts the redhead that someone is near. Her breath is shaky and she’s being very careful as to not make any sound. While she’s very certain her father _was_ following behind her, _this_ intruder could be anyone.

Footsteps approach, and the closer they get the more watery Bev’s eyes become. The figure stands right above the clubhouse haven, and that’s when she covers her mouth with her hand and holds her breath. The last thing Bev sees is the trapdoor opening before gaining consciousness.

* * *

She wakes up with a gasp.

Despite going to sleep a few _hours_ before, the dream - or the nightmare, rather - seemed quick. Bev can remember her vision in the span of twenty seconds. She opens her eyes, but the dark ceiling is all that they care to see. Bev is afraid of looking anywhere else, in case her father's figure returns. Her eyes water at the thought, and now she longs for a comforting embrace… something she’s almost certain a so-called _Cowboy_ could provide.

The bright light on her phone causes her eyes to squint and she immediately tones down the brightness level before doing anything else. Beverly searches through her contacts list, keeping an eye out for his name. It’s like she already _knows_ she can count on Ben to be there for her. A very unusual idea to have, after one night of conversation, but it still seems probable. Her finger hovers over the call button for a second. She hesitates to press it - so she doesn’t.

_‘Why would he want to listen to you chatter on about a bad dream at 4 AM? You’d just ruin his sleep and wreck the chances of him liking you.’_

Why is Beverly already worried about him liking her? Does she like _him?_ Well, of course she does. It doesn’t matter either way, because it’s stupid to develop feelings so quick. Recalling her encounters over at Oberlin instantly brings her back to speed on why she doesn’t date anymore. Not for the time being, and likely not any time soon.

Bev tosses her phone aside and waits for the screen to turn black. The room darkens once again, moonlight providing the only source of light whatsoever in the tiny, decorated dorm room. She turns her pillow over on the other side and fluffs it before resting her head on it again. She’s very tentative about going back to sleep, and if she thinks about her dad once more she might _never_ go to sleep. It won’t be good to stay awake though; her headache is becoming more pronounced the longer she stays up. So she tosses the covers over herself and shuts her eyes, trying to think happy thoughts that could positively affect her dreams.

Her mind is brought to a world in which she did kiss Ben Hanscom that night. One in which he presumably would have been disgusted by her barf breath, so maybe it’s best that she didn’t, as _that_ thought won’t bring pleasant dreams.

Bev turns to her side, facing the wall. The warmth her blanket gives is starting to burn her. The air is too humid in here even with the window open. The sheets come off. ‘ _When will autumn come?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bev's rough night is the final chapter of the first part of this series! In the next part, the story will begin with Eddie having a rough morning after. Stay tuned! 
> 
> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Author on this chapter:  
> Beverly - [ao3: bcnvcrly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcnvcrly); [tumblr: bcnvcrly](https://bcnvcrly.tumblr.com)  
> 


End file.
